Tutor Me
by Oxyidiot
Summary: After a tutoring session gone weird, Cartman and Kyle have a secret to hide-which, if exposed, could cause all hell to break loose. They soon realize, though, that keeping this a secret is harder than they thought. Slash.
1. Chapter One

A/N: After losing my work on here last summer, I'm finally writing again! I've been seeing some really awesome slash stories being posted lately, and it motivated me to restart my own previous attempts at it. Keep in mind, that while this isn't the first South Park fanfic I've written, this is the first slash story I've ever written. This is also the first South Park story I've written in novel format. Hopefully those two components put together won't make for a crappy story. Anyway, this fic takes place when the boys are about fifteen to sixteen, just so you know.

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park, but that's pretty obvious. Matt Stone and Trey Parker do, and I know they wouldn't write something like this.

* * *

"Oh, Terrence, I just farted in your face!" 

"You sure did, Phillip."

"AAHAHAHAHA!"

Eric Cartman laughed weakly at the television. He had seen this episode before--many times. This was a normal weekday afternoon for him--sitting alone at the couch, watching the same reruns over and over, eating the occasional Cheesy Poof to occupy his time further.

There was nothing else to do. He didn't want to hang out with his asshole loser friends. Especially Kyle. Cartman hated Kyle--at least that's what he always said. He managed to find a reason to fight with him almost every day. Mostly Cartman just liked to piss Kyle off. It usually worked, although Cartman was more than likely to end up getting pissed off too in the process.

Cartman was suddenly interrupted from his precious TV by the sound of the doorbell. "God dammit," he muttered. "Mooom!! Answer the door!"

"I'm busy, sweetie!" Ms. Cartman called from the other room. "Why don't you answer it? It's probably your tutor."

"Tutor? What the fuck are you talking about, Mom?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie, I forgot to tell you. The school called the other day and told me that your grades were slipping. So they offered to hire a random student with good grades to tutor you."

"Dammit, Mom! I don't need a fucking tutor!"

"Yes, you do, hon. Now, go answer the door. Your tutor is waiting, and it's very cold outside."

"Like I give a shit. I hope that asshole fuckin' freezes to death," Cartman mumbled angrily as he answered the door. Cartman glanced at the unwanted visitor and shook his head in annoyance.

"What the hell are you doing here, Jew?"

"Fuck you, Cartman," Kyle Broflovski replied as he entered the house. "The school sent me here. They told me you're such a dumbass that you needed help."

"I don't need help, douche bag. Not from you, anyway."

"Don't be stupid, Cartman. I'm not here to argue with you."

"I don't care what you're here for. I'm here to watch TV and ignore you." Cartman sat back down on the sofa and returned to his cartoons.

"Do you ever get off of your lazy ass and do work?" Kyle asked. Cartman paid no attention to him. "You're gonna fail your classes if you keep this up, you know."

Cartman continued to ignore Kyle. Kyle switched off the television set.

"Hey! I was watching that, asshole!"

"You've seen that shit a hundred times! If you don't let someone tutor you, you're going to have to repeat the tenth grade. And then you'll _really_ look like a dumbass."

Cartman gave an annoyed sigh. "Fine, whatever. Tutor me, you fuckin' homo."

Kyle shook his head. "Whatever, Cartman."

* * *

"God, Cartman, what the fuck died in here?" Kyle said, looking around Cartman's room. Cartman hadn't bothered to clean it in weeks. It looked like total shit, but he didn't really care. 

"You, if you don't shut the hell up, Jew," Cartman replied, glaring at Kyle angrily.

"You wish, fatass." Kyle looked around the room, trying to find somewhere to sit. There was only a desk chair (which had too much shit on it) and Cartman's bed (which was unmade, but Kyle wouldn't have wanted to sit there anyway). Kyle settled for the floor. Cartman sat across from him.

"Okay, Cartman, what do you want to work on first?"

"Hell if I know." Cartman looked around, signifying his disinterest.

"God dammit, Cartman, I'll just choose for you, if you're gonna be a dick about it." Kyle looked through some of the papers the school gave him. "It says here that you have a D in English."

"Yeah, so?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "And you have a book report due at the end of the month. Have you started on it?" Cartman shook his head. "Do you even have your book?"

"Yeah, it's over there," Cartman replied vaguely, pointing in no specific direction. When Kyle went over to get the book, he noticed that it hadn't been opened much. It didn't surprise him.

"Have you read any of the book?"

"Meh, a little bit. I didn't feel like reading all of it. It was too boring."

"Well, you're gonna have to read it anyway," Kyle said, throwing the book to Cartman. Cartman muttered a string of obscenities and opened the book. After reading for a few seconds, his thoughts somehow drifted off.

Kyle was really starting to piss him off, showing up at his house like this and telling him what to do. Then again, it probably was a little better than staring at the TV for hours and hours. If Kyle weren't such a stupid Jew, then maybe Cartman would want to be around him more. The Jew was all right sometimes. Not today, though. Today Cartman wanted Kyle to leave him the fuck alone and stop trying to get him to read lame-ass books.

Cartman tried to read the book again, but it was too difficult to read.

"This book sucks ass."

"You're just saying that because you're too lazy to read it."

"That may be, but I still say this book sucks ass."

"Just read the fucking book, Cartman."

Cartman promptly flipped Kyle off and returned to the book.

God, what did Kyle have to be such a fucking asshole all the time? And why did he always wear that stupid green hat? Cartman still wore hats too, but not all the fucking time. Jesus Christ. Cartman couldn't concentrate now.

"Hey, Jew?"

"What, Cartman?"

"Why do you always wear that stupid hat?"

"Why do you want to know, fatass?"

"I was just wondering. It's just a fucking question."

Kyle gave an annoyed sigh. "I don't know. To hide my hair, I guess. I hate it."

Cartman laughed at the thought of Kyle's mass of red hair hidden beneath his hat. "You shouldn't wear your hat so much. You look better without it," Cartman commented, not really thinking.

Kyle got a confused look on his face and eyed Cartman weirdly. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing," Cartman quickly replied, surprised himself. "Now, would you shut the fuck up? I'm trying to read."

Cartman looked down at the pages again, not paying attention to what he was reading.

Why the fuck did he just say that? He was starting to confuse himself. He didn't really like Kyle's stupid hair, did he? Maybe that wasn't the only thing he liked about Kyle....No, wait! He didn't like _anything_ about Kyle! He hated Kyle!

Cartman shook his head roughly to avoid any more weird thoughts. He really just needed to concentrate on reading the stupid book. It was so hard to concentrate, though. Cartman hated reading so damn much. Giving up once again, Cartman looked up from the pages.

"I can't read this shit."

"Yes, you can, Cartman. It's not that hard."

"Yes, it is! I can't concentrate!"

"Dammit, Cartman, come over here. I'll help you with it." Somewhat hesitantly, Cartman moved over, closer to Kyle.

He didn't like sitting next to Kyle like this. It was giving him the strangest feeling. It almost felt like..._excitement._

Kyle started to explain the book, but Cartman wasn't paying much attention.

What the hell was happening? He wasn't supposed to be feeling like this. No, Cartman doesn't feel this way...not around Kyle. He _loathed_ Kyle, remember? So why couldn't he stop staring at him now?

Cartman awkwardly tried to mask his facial expressions. He tuned back into what Kyle was saying, but he found out he had missed pretty much all of it.

"...So, do you understand now?" Kyle asked.

Kyle was being so helpful...and even though Cartman wasn't listening to his help, he appreciated it in a way.

"No," Cartman said quickly, "but listen. Uh, I just wanted to say thanks for helping me out today, uh, with all this shit. I guess you're not a good-for-nothing Jew after all."

Dammit, why did he have to say that? Eric Cartman does not say thank you!

Kyle looked puzzled. It was hard to imagine Cartman being thankful...for anything. "Uh, you're welcome, Cartman..."

Cartman looked into Kyle's eyes as Kyle spoke. He couldn't help staring at them. Cartman noticed the questioning glance Kyle gave him when he looked back at him. Cartman averted his eyes from Kyle.

Kyle looked at Cartman, trying to read his thoughts. Cartman was so hard to figure out sometimes. Sometimes (or most of the time, rather) he would be a complete asshole...and then he would act differently...like this. He didn't know if he liked it or not. Maybe he did.

That strange feeling inside of Cartman was starting to strengthen. He couldn't stop looking at Kyle...at his eyes, his face. He really wasn't so bad to look at. Cartman couldn't take it anymore. There was something he really wanted to do now, and although he didn't know _why_ he wanted to do it, he wouldn't stop thinking about it until he did it. Better tell the Jew about it first, though.

"Kyle..." Cartman said softly.

"What, Cartman?" Kyle noticed that Cartman looked pretty serious.

"Would it be wrong if I did something right now, something I don't know if you'd like?"

"You can't kill me, Cartman. There are laws against that."

Cartman laughed a little. "No, it's not that...." He paused. "Here, I'll just show you." Cartman leaned close to Kyle and in an instant, their lips met.

A wave of emotion flooded over Cartman. What the_ fuck _was he doing? He really shouldn't be kissing Kyle, not Kyle, of all people! Kyle would probably be killing Cartman in a second for this.

Kyle was surprised, to say the least, but he didn't pull away from Cartman. Somehow this made more sense than he knew.

The two deepened their kiss, confused and scared but not wanting to stop. Cartman, with one free hand, took off Kyle's hat. He really did like Kyle's hair. And that wasn't all he liked about Kyle, either...

After a minute or two, the two finally pulled away from each other, breathing heavily. Kyle looked at Cartman with pondering eyes.

"What the hell was that, Cartman?"

"I don't know, Kyle...."

"Well, it's getting late. I have to go now, but I'll be back in a couple of days. I'm supposed to tutor you three days a week." Kyle got his things and left Cartman's room.

"Sweet..." Cartman said with a grin.


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: I wasn't sure if I was going to continue this or not, but luckily I got some inspiration and ended up writing this pretty quickly (when I finally started it again, that is). Anyway, thanks for the reviews for the first chapter. That also made me want to continue. I don't know if I will add more to this later. I guess it's up to you, the reader, to decide if this is the ending or not. Now, onward to the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park. I don't have to tell you guys twice.

On a side note, tomorrow is my birthday! Yay!

_

* * *

_

_Two days later..._

Kyle dreaded this day. Today was the day he had to go back to Cartman's house for tutoring. It might not have been that bad, if not for what happened the last time he was there. He saw a different side of Cartman...a side that scared the fuck out of him when he thought about it.

Feeling uncomfortable and cold from the mountain air, Kyle pressed the doorbell of Cartman's house. He didn't hear any yelling by Cartman before he answered the door like last time, just quiet footsteps as Cartman walked over to the door and opened it.

"Hey, Jew..." The two gave each other little eye contact as Cartman stepped away from the doorway entrance to let Kyle in.

"Uh, hey, Cartman." Kyle cautiously entered Cartman's house, continuing to avoid eye contact with his fat friend.

_Some things are best swept under the rug..._

"So, are you ready to start?" Kyle asked, clutching his school books and sifting through the pages absent-mindedly.

"I guess so. We can stay here in the living room today. My mom's not here, so no one will bother us."

"Oh...okay, cool. "

The two went over to the couch and sat down. The television was turned on, like always. Kyle sighed; they were never going to get any work done. Cartman would be watching that damned TV the whole time. Kyle noticed as Cartman retrieved the remote from the couch cushion. Surprisingly, Cartman turned the TV off.

"Wow, Cartman, you're actually gonna not watch TV for once?"

Cartman scoffed. He didn't like Kyle to approve of the things he did. It made him feel..._good_ inside, which pissed him off because he couldn't explain why. Just about everything was confusing him lately, and that fact really would make him angry when he thought about it. In fact, a lot of people had noticed his recent and frequent outbursts, but they didn't say anything because they really didn't want to bother with him.

"Fuck you, Kyle. Just hurry up and give me my work, so you can leave."

"Okay, okay, Cartman, calm down. What the hell is up with you?"

"Nothing, Jew. It's none of your damn business what goes on with me, anyway."

Kyle glared at Cartman, though there was a glint of concern in his eyes. "Sorry I asked."

"You should be."

In reality, Cartman was the one who was sorry. He was sorry he had to keep covering up everything. On the other hand, Kyle was really starting to piss him off, so he wasn't sorry. Kyle was the center of his frustration. It was because of _him _that he felt this way in the first place. One minute he would despise Kyle with every ounce of his being, and the next, well...

Kyle looked intently at Cartman, who looked like he was trying to figure something out. Kyle had no idea what had been going on with Cartman lately. Ever since that day Kyle came over, Cartman had been acting strange. After what happened, Kyle figured it would be better for the both of them if they didn't talk about it. After all, some things are best swept under the rug. This definitely had to be one of those things.

Cartman didn't like the way things were after everything happened. The next day, Kyle was his usual self, acting like everything was the same, even though it wasn't. Cartman was really prepared to be different to Kyle that day, to be nicer, but Kyle's indifference pushed Cartman over the edge. But then again, why would things be any different? It was just one momentary lapse of judgement Cartman had that day, one little, insignificant mistake that should be forgotten.

_That's right, forgotten..._

Kyle noticed the awkward silence that had developed. "Uh, anyway, I guess we should get started."

"Whatever."

"What do you want to do first--uh, bad question. I guess we can work on algebra. That seems to be a weak area for you."

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Algebra sucks."

"Yeah, well, I can help you with it."

"I already told you, I don't need your stupid help."

"And I already told you, you do. People do need help sometimes, Cartman. There's no need to be ashamed of it."

"I'm not ashamed of anything! And you can't help me!"

"Yes, I can, Cartman! That's why I'm here."

"Whatever," Cartman replied once again, giving a silent sigh that only he could hear. He knew Kyle would never be able to help him, not in the way he needed it most.

Kyle frowned and reached over to open the algebra book he'd brought. In doing so, he accidently tipped a glass that had been sitting on the table. On reflex, the two instantaneously reached for the glass, their hands lying on each other's. They kept that position for maybe a second longer than they should have, then released their hands from the other's touch.

_God, why did that feel so right?!_

"Sorry..." they both sheepishly replied. Kyle opened the book and gave Cartman some problems to do from the most recent lesson his class had been working on. Cartman did the problems half-assed and then gave them to Kyle to check. Examining the problems, Kyle noticed that Cartman had gotten every problem wrong. It didn't even look like he'd tried to do them, either.

"Yeah, I know, they're wrong." Kyle looked up from the paper. "We went over that shit today, but I didn't really get it, so I just stopped listening."

Kyle pursed his lips. "You shouldn't just not listen in class, Cartman. You'll never learn how to do anything."

Cartman shrugged and gave a look that said he didn't care in the least bit. "I wouldn't know how to do it even if I had been listening. I already told you, algebra sucks ass. I can't figure it out, and I don't really care if I do or not."

"Yes, you do, and you can figure it out. You just need someone to explain it to you a little better, which is what I can do. The school didn't hire me for nothing."

Sometimes Cartman wished he could be as smart as Kyle, but he knew he never would be. "Fine, explain it to me, because I don't fucking get it."

Kyle was glad that Cartman had accepted his help. He was starting to get the feeling that maybe Cartman wasn't quite the asshole he made himself out to be. It seemed that there was more to Eric Cartman than met the eye, but he was hiding it. Kyle shook his head and proceeded to explain the entire lesson to Cartman, who, for once, was actually listening. Kyle gave Cartman a practice problem to do. Cartman tried the problem and then gave it back to Kyle to check. After looking it over, Kyle grinned.

"You got it right."

Cartman looked a little surprised. "I did? Sweet." He tried to act indifferent, but really he was pretty happy that he actually knew how to do something he figured only the smart kids knew how to do. He hid a smile.

"Good job, Cartman."

Cartman's eyes widened when he felt Kyle embrace him in a hug. His touch was warm and comforting, and it made Cartman feel good inside. Really good. He didn't want to let go, but he knew he had to, or else Kyle might figure out what Cartman was just starting to figure out for himself...

Kyle didn't know why he had hugged Cartman. He was proud of him for accomplishing something, and he wanted to show it somehow. Maybe a hug wasn't the best idea; this was Cartman, after all; but he didn't know what else to do. It wasn't all that bad, though. It was actually...kinda nice hugging Cartman. It was almost as if he felt the softer side of Cartman's persona show through in the way he hugged. He actually _did_ like that side of Cartman, he admitted to himself.

This was getting confusing, Kyle thought. He actually..._liked_ Cartman, even if it was just one part of him? Kyle smiled; he never thought he'd see the day. His mind getting out of its trance, he realized that the two of them were still hugging. The two were silent as they broke away.

_Some things are best swept under the rug..._

"Cartman, I have to ask you something."

Cartman was uncharacteristically quiet. "What..." he added, "Jew?"

Kyle looked at the floor; it was too uncomfortable to keep eye contact at the moment. "Uh...the other day...why did you...kiss me?"

Cartman sighed. He should've known he couldn't have avoided this forever. As much as he'd thought about it, though, he didn't have a concrete answer. "I don't know." He paused for a moment, trying to come up with something to say. "I just...had this urge, and I couldn't stop myself."

"But why?"

Cartman shut his eyes and wrinkled his brow in frustration. "I don't know, Kyle. Maybe if I did, things wouldn't be so damn confusing."

"Oh." Kyle looked up at Cartman, his eyes pleading for an explanation. Not finding any, he gave up and returned his gaze to the floor.

"It's just that..." Cartman's words broke the silence. Kyle looked back up again. "...God dammit, Kyle, I want to hate you so damn much, and for a while, I thought I did. I mean, you're a stupid, know-it-all Jew, and you piss me off. But sometimes, when I look at you, I don't feel that way at all...and it scares me a little. It freaks me out to think that maybe I don't hate you at all, that maybe I actually have other feelings for you."

It took Kyle a minute to digest Cartman's words. He remained silent for a moment, contemplating. Did Cartman really feel...that way...about him? He didn't think Cartman could feel human emotion for anyone! Maybe there really was more to Eric Cartman than met the eye. Kyle knew now that he didn't want to stop until he found out.

"Cartman..." Kyle muttered softly. He didn't know what to say. Everything was...unreal. He paused, then he found himself kissing his mortal enemy for the second time that week.

The two stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, melting in each other's sweet embrace. Everything was still so very, very confusing, but they were willing to figure it out. Together, they could figure it all out.

A while later, they broke away from each other. "Oh, shit, I gotta go," Kyle realized suddenly. "My mom's gonna kill me." He paused. "But I'll be back, same time, same place."

"Sweet," Cartman replied. "See you later, Jew. Thanks for your help."

Kyle grinned. "Any time, Cartman."

Kyle got his things and left Cartman's house, wondering how his friends would react if they found out about this. He guessed his "tutoring sessions" with Cartman would have to be their little secret for now....


	3. Chapter Three

First of all, let me say that I am definitely the type of person who finishes what she starts, but for some reason, most of my writing doesn't fall into that category, especially fanfiction. I'm not sure exactly why that is--it's not because I don't want to, because I do--but it's obviously true that I don't follow through, as I haven't updated any of my stories in two years.

I never thought I'd see the day that I updated anything on here, especially this story, but here it is. I don't know what sparked it--maybe it was the unexpected review I got from prettilitTLepoison last week, maybe it was the sudden urge I got to log in to my account and look at some of my past stories, or maybe it was the sudden burst of ideas I got on how to continue this story. All I know is, my writer's block for this story has left me for the moment, and unlike before, I actually have some idea now of where I want this to go. This story has been left unfinished now for too long, so how about I finish it?

All right, so this is the third chapter. If you haven't read this in a while (I know I hadn't), I would strongly suggest going back and rereading the first two chapters before you go on. That's probably an obvious choice, though, so I'm gonna quit this ridiculous backstory to my update and let you actually read the story. One more thing, though--something I just thought was kinda neat. In 2005, when I was still working on this story, I actually did write some of this chapter, and what I did write I kept in, meaning that between the first three sentences and the rest of the chapter, there is actually a two-year gap in writing!

Anyway, I shall keep the rest of this ridiculousness to myself. Enjoy the long-awaited chapter three.

* * *

_I never, in a million years, would've thought I'd be here doing this right now,_ Kyle thought. 

They yet again lay upon the couch, kissing feverishly. Kyle smiled through occupied lips as a hand reached to his hair and gently played with his curls. His thoughts were broken, however, at the sound of Cartman's doorbell. Cursing violently, Cartman jumped from the couch to get the door, quickly motioning Kyle to open his textbooks for today's "tutoring" session. Cartman's frown quickly turned into a glare when he saw Stan standing at the other side of the door.

"Is Kyle here?"

"What? No, 'Hey Cartman. How are you doing today?'"

"Hey fatass. Is Kyle here?" Stan paused and grinned. "Better?"

Cartman squinted his eyes in annoyance. "Yes, he's here. Who wants to know?"

"I'd like to talk to him."

"Whatever." With that, Cartman walked away from the door, going back over to Kyle and the couch to sit down. "Stan's here."

"Why?" Kyle asked. Cartman merely shrugged and grabbed one of the textbooks laying out, glancing at its pages with a slight expression of boredom on his face.

Kyle bit his lip, nervous for some reason as he went over to greet Stan. Stan wasn't going to talk to him about his tutoring sessions with Cartman, was he? Stan couldn't know what was really going on. They were being way too secretive for that to happen.

"Hey, Stan. What's up?"

"Oh, nothing much. I was just wondering if you had tonight's homework for…" Stan paused for what seemed like an eternity, leaving Kyle puzzled. Then he simply said, "You look flushed."

Kyle's eyes widened for a brief moment. He scanned the room for a second, trying to think of a good excuse. Then he scoffed. "Well, yeah. You would be too if you had to constantly battle that fat fuck over there."

"AY!" Cartman, who had taken to eavesdropping on Stan and Kyle's conversation, grunted from across the room.

Stan shook his head. "Oh. I hear you. I know how you guys can get."

Kyle tried to hide his continually reddening cheeks as he thought about what had been happening before Stan came to the door. "Oh, you don't know the half of it. I don't know why I even bother to try to tutor him," Kyle remarked, giving an eye roll that was just a bit too over-the-top.

"Hmm," was Stan's reply. He looked confused. "Then why do you, if he gets on your nerves so much?"

"Well, I really need the money," Kyle answered quickly.

Stan raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said it was a volunteer service."

_Oh, shit, that's right. I guess I'm getting used to lying, _Kyle thought. "Well, it is," Kyle said, drawing his words out slowly to give himself time to think of a cover up, "but since Cartman's such an annoying douche bag and no one else will tutor his stupid ass, Cartman's mom pays me a little extra so I won't bail out."

"Oh. That's pretty sweet, I guess."

"Yeah, but still, no money in the world could ever make me enjoy being around Cartman so much, unfortunately."

_But that's because I don't need money for that,_ Kyle mused, making a strange but nice revelation.

"That sucks, dude. Hey, if you ever need somebody else here so you don't totally want to kick Cartman's ass every time you try to teach him something, I'd be glad to do it. Well, I can't say I'd be _glad_ to do it, but I _would_ do it…"

Kyle wrinkled his nose. "No, that's okay," he spewed out a little more quickly than he probably should have. Seeing Stan's offended expression, Kyle tried to rectify his response. "I mean, I don't want to have to bring you into all that, Stan. I know you have a lot better things to do than watch me and Cartman argue."

"Like I said, I _would_ do it…" Stan replied, a strangely serious look on his face.

Kyle gave a light chuckle at Stan's intensity. "Thanks for the offer, dude, but I don't think it'll be necessary." He glanced back at Cartman, who, Kyle could tell, was pretending not to listen to them. "Well, Stan, if you don't mind, I really need to get back to tutoring Cartman so I can get it over with for today."

"Sure, dude. Just one thing…" He glanced at Kyle, who, for some reason, was still looking at Cartman. "Kyle?"

Kyle quickly turned around, trying to feign a look of disgust from watching Cartman. "Yeah, dude?"

"The homework assignment?"

It took Kyle a few moments to process this information. "Oh…yeah! For which class?"

"Biology."

"No problem. I have today's assignment with my notes. I'll go get it for you." Kyle went over to the coffee table, retrieving a notebook that was laying under a pile of books. Stan watched Kyle as he walked by Cartman. The two shared a stare that seemed to go on a second too long, which Stan thought was odd. Maybe they were both still fuming a little over the fight they were having before he came in.

"Here you go, dude," Kyle said brightly as he walked back over to Stan. "I've already done the homework on a separate sheet, so you can keep the notebook for tonight. Just remember to bring it back to me in the morning."

Stan smiled a little, chuckling inside at how possessive Kyle could be with his schoolbooks. "Thanks, Kyle."

Stan glanced at Kyle one more time before turning to leave, but he stopped suddenly when he realized that something about this situation was very out of place. Stan needed to know what was going on right now.

"Hey Kyle, why aren't you wearing your hat? You _always_ wear it."

Kyle's eyes bulged. "I'm not wearing it?" Quickly, he touched the top of his head.

_Cartman took it off._

"Shit, you're right. It must've fallen off when I tried to choke Cartman earlier and he pinned me to the ground, trying to choke _me_."

_Well, that's the half-truth, _Kyle thought_. Cartman did kinda pin me down earlier._

"Are you sure you don't me to stay and watch over you guys?" Stan asked again, worried.

Events from ten minutes ago kept replaying in Kyle's head. "No, definitely not." Kyle shook his head. "Don't worry, Stan. I can handle myself."

"All right, dude, if you say so. See you tomorrow."

"Sure thing." With that, Stan left the Cartman residence, an unfamiliar feeling of discomfort settling into his stomach, which Stan shrugged off as nothing.

Kyle abruptly shut the door behind him, drawing a deep breath as he went back over to sit at the couch with Cartman.

"He knows."

"Bullshit he does." Cartman shut the book he was "reading" and turned to look at Kyle. "There's no way that dumbass knows anything."

Kyle turned away from Cartman, looking instead at the floor for his misplaced hat. "First of all," Kyle said, finally retrieving his hat from under the coffee table and putting it on, "Stan is not a dumbass. And second of all, what makes you think he can't see right through us? He looked suspicious, Cartman."

Cartman rolled his eyes and scoffed. "That's not my fault. You're the one who can't keep your cool about it. You were about to piss yourself over there with Stan." He paused and added as a footnote, "Pansy."

Kyle glared at Cartman with anger-filled eyes. "Fuck you."

"Fuck _you_, you pansy piece of Jewish shit." Cartman retorted, knocking off Kyle's hat violently.

Silence filled the room for several heated moments until the two's faces collided in an aggressive kiss. Grabbing each other vigorously, Cartman and Kyle ended up falling to the floor, where they began to mutter sweet nothings during breaks for air.

"I hate you, Cartman."

"I hate you more, Kyle."

A minute later, they were interrupted once again, this time with the ringing of the telephone.

"God DAMMIT!" Cartman shouted, stomping over to the phone to answer it. "What the FUCK do you want?" he practically screamed into the receiver.

"Jesus, Cartman, what crawled up your ass?" came a voice from the other end of the line.

"Hey, Kenny."

"Seriously, though, what the hell's wrong with you?"

"Not that it's any of your business, Kenny, but…" Cartman paused, trying to think of something believable to say, "I was just about to go take a shit, and you interrupted me. So if you don't mind…"

"Ugh, sorry I asked. Hey, I thought you had tutoring today," Kenny added quickly.

"I do."

"Then why are you taking up all of Kyle's time to take a shit?"

"Fuck Kyle. He can wait." Cartman was getting tired of this conversation. "So what do you want, Kenny?"

_Cartman seems irritable today, _Kenny thought._ More so than usual. _"I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out today, um, after you're done shitting and getting tutored."

"I don't know, Kenny. I'm busy now. Call back later." Cartman mumbled quickly, trying to hurry Kenny off the phone.

"All right, Cartman." He paused. "Are you sure you're okay?"

_What's with all the questions? This is bullshit!_ "Yes, God dammit, I'm fine! Just leave me alone a'eady!" Cartman barked into the phone.

"Fine," Kenny replied, and Cartman took this as his cue to hang up. _Jeez,_ Kenny thought. _Either Cartman really, really has to take a shit, or something strange is going on. He seemed…distracted. But then again, he did eat three school burritos at lunch today…eh, whatever. I don't know._

"Fuckin' FINALLY!" Cartman shouted. He looked over at Kyle, who was staring at him with a smug look on his face.

"Wow, Cartman, you sure do know how to keep your cool. You certainly showed me."

"What are you talking about, Jew?"

"I'm sure Kenny doesn't suspect a thing."

Cartman rolled his eyes and sat back down on the couch. "I always talk to Kenny that way."

"Whatever." Kyle looked around the room, thinking. "Cartman, I think we need to talk about something."

"Talk about what?" Cartman's eyes looked slightly hesitant. Kyle didn't want to stop what they had going on, did he?

Kyle noticed Cartman's worried look and smiled inwardly. Cartman could be almost cute sometimes. "It's nothing bad. I just—I mean, I know we have this silent agreement not to say anything about what's been going on between us,"—with this, they both smiled slightly—"but I think we should make it official. I think we should make a pact that under any circumstances, we won't tell anyone about us. We both know neither of us would ever live it down if people found out."

"Maybe _you_ wouldn't be able to live it down, but I'd be fine. I'd just kick everybody's asses."

"Cartman, promise me…"

Cartman melted just a little bit at the sight of Kyle's pleading. Goddamn Jew tactics. He pretended not to be affected by this. "Fine," he replied, with little emotion. "I promise. But you need to learn how to lie better."

"Fine. I guess next time I'm with you and Stan asks what I'm doing, I'll just tell him I'm taking a shit."

"Ay! It's a good excuse! People always need to shit!"

Kyle laughed at their bickering. "Whatever, Cartman…" Kyle glanced at the time. He'd have to be home for dinner soon. "Well, I guess we should hurry up and finish this 'tutoring' session…"

"I guess you're right, Jew…" Cartman replied, turning to face Kyle on the couch.

Their faces inched closer, and Cartman began to run his fingers through Kyle's hair. As they were face-to-face, Cartman kissed Kyle with a gentleness Kyle didn't expect and spoke to him softly.

"Don't worry, Kyle. No one will ever know."


	4. Chapter Four

Just a quick author's note (last one for a while): After some thought, I've decided to change the POV from third person omniscient to first person POV, alternating between Kyle and Cartman (and occasionally Stan in later chapters). I don't plan on labeling each POV change as it occurs, but if it gets confusing to anyone, just let me know and I'll start labeling the different POVs.

Anyway, thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter. You guys are great! And don't forget to review this chapter, too! Hope you enjoy!

* * *

It's been about a month since I first started "tutoring" Cartman, and for the most part, we've been hiding it really well. I've gotten a lot better at lying, and now I doubt that Stan (or anyone else, for that matter) suspects a thing. But today I'm worried; something's coming out that could really make people wonder. 

That something is Cartman's report card.

In all the time I've been Cartman's tutor, we've only gotten about, say, five percent of any type of studying done, and most of that was in the first couple of times I came over. I always bring books and assignments when I go over to Cartman's house, hoping to at least study for half the time, but we never get around to it. I want to help him learn, but I always get so damn _distracted_.

Considering how often I've been going to Cartman's to tutor him lately, it's gonna look really goddamn peculiar to see that his grades haven't improved…at all. Even if he is a dumbass.

Which is why I'm filled with a sense of dread as Cartman walks up to me at my locker, report card in hand. He doesn't look happy, and neither do I. Just for the sake of optimism, I ask him, "Any A's?"

He says nothing and shoves the report card in my hands. When I look down at his grades, I'm shocked. There _are_ A's on this report card…several, in fact! This whole report card is filled with good grades!

I don't understand!

I look up at him, and he's grinning boldly. Now I _really_ don't understand. "Cartman, how did this happen?" I pull him aside and mumble discreetly, "We haven't exactly done much studying in the past month."

Cartman looks like this thought doesn't faze him. "Meh, maybe not together, but I've been studying those notes you've been bringing me for tutoring. I've been trying to pay more attention in class, too. Seems to be working."

Cartman continues to grin at me, and I continue to be confused. "But Cartman…why? No offense, but since when do you actually care about schoolwork?"

Cartman's grin begins to falter in the process of thinking, and he stops looking at me in the eyes. "I don't know. My mom always told me I could be really smart if I just applied myself. I told her she was a stupid bitch, but I knew she was right because I _am_ smart. I just never felt like doing work. Now I do."

I still don't quite get it. "But why the sudden change?"

"I guess I've just been feeling better about myself." Cartman answers quickly, and I find no need to question him further. I'm filled with a sudden urge to hug him.

So I do.

He stiffens when I abruptly wrap my arms around him, but eventually he returns the hug. This reminds me a lot of that time I hugged him during one of our early tutoring sessions. I was proud of him then, and I'm proud of him now. The only difference between then and now is that we were alone when we hugged before, and now…shit, we're at school.

People are looking at us.

Cartman and I seem to realize this at the same time. Quickly, we break away, and I notice Stan at the opposite side of the hallway, giving us (namely, me) a "what the hell" look. As he walks toward us, Cartman punches me in the arm.

"What the fuck are you doing, Kyle?!" Cartman screams at me and everyone else in my general direction.

I know he's just pretending to yell at me, so I go along with it. "Fuck you, Cartman. I'm sorry that knowing I helped you _not_ fail something for once got me excited! And God, I'm sooo fucking sorry for hugging you because of it! Believe me! I won't be able to get the smell of fatass off me all day!"

Stan arrives just in time for Cartman to finish up. "Ay! I smell, fine, thank you! And I don't need your goddamn hugs! Don't ever touch me AGAIN!"

"Gladly!" I shout as he huffs off. We both know full well that "agreement" won't last the whole day. I turn to Stan, who still looks mortified at my display of affection to Cartman.

Time to explain my way out of it.

"Dude! Why the hell were you hugging Cartman?!" His eyes are opened wide, demanding an explanation.

"Honestly, Stan, I have no fucking clue what possessed me to do it." Half true. I have no idea why I hugged him with so many people around. Stupid, stupid me. "He showed me his report card. He had made so much improvement, I guess I just got overwhelmed, and…I hugged him. Couldn't regret it more."

"So…you actually taught Cartman something? And he learned stuff?"

Well, no. But yes. "Yeah, I guess I did." I couldn't help but smile a little at the thought.

Stan still looks like he's trying to process everything. "Hmm. I guess that makes sense. If I were you, and I had actually gotten through to somebody like Cartman, who doesn't usually listen to anybody, I guess I'd be excited too. But to hug him? Sick, dude."

I stick my tongue out in pretend disgust. "Believe me, I know. I'll never make that mistake again."

I hope Stan believes me. I don't want to talk about this anymore.

"So, how did you get through to Cartman? You must be one awesome tutor."

Thank God he changed the subject. "I don't know. I guess I am."

"Hey, maybe you can tutor me sometime. I'm almost failing algebra."

Suddenly, the thought of "tutoring" Stan like I tutor Cartman comes into my mind, and I blush. I've never thought of Stan that way, and the idea of kissing him makes me uncomfortable. It's definitely something I'd never want to do, no offense to Stan. Not that he'd find my not wanting to kiss him to be offensive. I don't feel like answering him now. I'm too embarrassed by my own thoughts.

Luckily, the bell saves me the trouble. I mutter a quick, "Maybe, dude; gotta go," before I dart off to my first class, hoping to be only slightly tardy. My thoughts travel back to Cartman as I slide into my desk.

I don't exactly know why the improvement in Cartman's grades made me so happy, to the point of thoughtlessly hugging him in public. Maybe it was the fact that he's obviously making an effort to improve himself, which seems pretty uncharacteristic of him. Then again, we've both been doing pretty uncharacteristic things lately, which brings me to wonder _why_ he's trying to improve himself.

He didn't say it outwardly, but it seems like he's doing all this because of me. He said he's been feeling better about himself…is that because of me too? Why would I have that kind of effect on him?

All of this is getting too confusing, so it's probably best that I not think about it at the moment. I really need to concentrate in class anyway.

But now I can't.

* * *

God dammit, that dumbass Kyle shouldn't have hugged me today. And I shouldn't have hugged him back. He must've gotten me with those damn Jew tactics again. For example, he seemed genuinely happy to see me get good grades. He never used to like seeing me succeed! He used to be the one trying to _prevent_ me from succeeding. Most of the time it was for one of my evil schemes, which were usually at his expense (heh, those were the days)…but still. 

I keep thinking about this morning for some reason. I actually made Kyle happy today. And seeing him happy made _me_ happy. That's _really_ fuckin' weird. That must be why I hugged him back.

What the hell is wrong with the world nowadays? Why do Kyle and I actually like each other now? I used to hate the stupid bastard more than anything, and now I'm actually paying attention in class (just not today, though) so I can get good grades and impress him.

Why the fuck would I want to impress him?

I don't get it. I've noticed lately that I feel _better_ than I used to, in a lot of ways. Being around Kyle excites me; the thought of seeing him after school gives me something to look forward to. And Kyle _likes_ being around me for once. It's different…but not so bad.

Part of me wants to get to know Kyle better. We talk, but it's mostly when we're fighting, which is usually at school around our friends. There, we're pretty much _expected_ to be constantly fighting or insulting each other. But I don't always want to be fighting with Kyle, as much fun as it is. I want to see what it's like to talk to him away from everybody else and what they think.

I wonder how we could do that. Him coming to my house is one thing, but we never really talk there. I want to be around him in a different setting for once. Maybe we could go somewhere and hang out. And we can _both_ get to know each other.

When I think about it, the idea almost sounds like a date, but it's not.

I don't want to go on a date with Kyle. Dates are for fags.


	5. Chapter Five

Author's Note: Sorry for the long update. School's been freakin' killing me this term, but Thanksgiving break is fast approaching, so hopefully I'll get more writing time in then. But anyway, I'd just like to say thanks to the people who reviewed Chapter 4: Marble Meadow, InvisibleAciren, imjustagirl0077, and JACinthebox. You guys are all great. And to you other readers, I know you're out there, so please make my day brighter and review! I'd really appreciate it.

This is probably one of my favorite chapters thus far, and I'd like to dedicate it to Marble Meadow, whose review back in July totally rocked my socks.

* * *

Luckily, Cartman's report card came on one of our tutoring days, so after school, I get the chance to properly congratulate him. 

And to also completely violate his "wishes" he made that morning of "never touching him again".

Needless to say, it's another interesting afternoon at the Cartman residence. But Cartman seems less than enthusiastic for some reason. I break away from him and study his face. Yep, I was right; he looks like he has something on his mind. "Is something wrong, Cartman?" I ask.

He stares at me, lost in thought. Then he quickly answers, "No."

"Come on, you can tell me. What is it?" I press on.

Finally, I seem to break him. He takes a breath and slowly answers me. "Well, Kyle," he pauses, trying to get his words out right, "I've been doing some thinking, and I want to do more…with you."

It takes me a while to realize what he means. When I do, I wrinkle my nose in disgust. "You're sick, Cartman! What makes you think I'd want to go down on you?!"

Cartman pinches the bridge of his nose, thoroughly shaking his head. "God dammit, Kyle, you're such a stupid Jew. That's not that what I meant at all."

Blood instantly fills my cheeks. "It's not?"

Cartman looks annoyed with me. "No."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I meant, uh…" He looks nervous, but then he blurts out, "I think we should spend more time together…uh, away from here. Alone."

_What?_ I take time to process this thoroughly, "You mean…like a date?" I suppress the urge to giggle wildly.

His eyes widen at my response. "Dammit, Kyle, no, not like a date! You're such a stupid piece of crap!" Then he pauses, noticing my questioning, disbelieving stare. "Okay, fine. Maybe. Sorta. So…what do you think?"

Wow. I wasn't expecting that at all. How can I answer that?

"Um…" I start out.

I've never thought about it before, going on a date with Cartman. That idea in itself sounds ridiculous. How could that possibly work?

"Not that I'm answering you one way or the other, but how _could_ we go on a date?" I ask, repeating myself out loud.

"What do you mean, 'how'?"

"I mean, how would it work? If we went on a date, people would see us, and then they'd know something was going on. And you promised no one would find out."

Cartman glances around the room, trying to think of an answer. "I don't know. But I'll figure something out."

I further my search for plausibility. "And how would we get there? There's no way we could ask our parents to take us, and we're too young to drive ourselves."

Cartman stares at me blankly, his tone emotionless. "I'll figure something out," he repeats himself. He looks frustrated.

I feel kind of bad for bashing his hopes like that. "Tell you what, Cartman. If you can find some way to make this happen without breaking our pact or killing anybody, then maybe, just maybe, I'll agree to go on a date…with you," I finish awkwardly. It's still a little weird for me to say that.

Cartman brightens up after I say this, and he gets a determined gleam in his eye, the same gleam he gets when he's about to do something morally wrong or illegal. Oh, shit. What have I done?

"_No_ killing anybody," I repeat.

Cartman scoffs and shakes his head. "I heard you the first time, Jew. Why would it matter to you, anyway? You're the one who killed Jesus, you fuckin' Heeb."

"Shut your mouth, fatass," I hiss, my eyes narrowing into tiny slits. It's funny; even with how much my relationship with Cartman has changed over the past month, he still manages to piss me off just as much as he did before. It's funny to think about how quick he just went from asking me on a date to belittling my people--it was less than a minute. He's such a dick. I hate him so much.

I decide to shove him.

He gets mad and shoves me back.

The next thing I know, we're into some serious fighting. Well, as serious as we both can be; neither of us is too great of a fighter. Still, I manage to get a few good punches in, and he does too. Suddenly, he has me against the wall, choking the life out of me, or at least trying to. I find a way out of his grip and with all my strength, I push _him_against the wall, preparing to strangle him right back. My anger has reached its highest point; I can _feel_it burning to the surface. My blood feels like it's literally boiling; my face is hot and sweaty and sticky from all the physical exertion. Finally, I get my chance to wrap my hands around his stupid fat neck, and…I kiss him.

Another thing that's funny is how often that happens.

Don't ask me why, but fighting really does something for both of us. And considering how intense we get during our fights and arguments, it's really easy to turn all that physical energy in a completely different direction. It always turns out hot, aggressive, and…passionate.

In other words, it's exciting to be with Eric Cartman.

A little while after slamming Cartman to the floor, my travels back to his proposition of a date. Hah! What a ridiculous idea. Why would he want to go on a date with _me_?

I'd laugh if he actually found a way to make it happen.

* * *

About thirty minutes after Kyle leaves, my mom comes home from "work" (I don't even know what she does), and she starts to prepare dinner. It's amazing how great my timing always is for this. Being with Kyle can really work up my appetite, and by the time my hunger has reached full force, my mom's home and dinner's waiting for me. It's totally sweet. 

In those thirty minutes I was alone, I thought really hard to come up with a plan for how I could get that date with Kyle. I wasn't planning on asking him about it today, but he started looking at me with those goddamn _pleading_ eyes, and I felt compelled to tell him what I was thinking. Sometimes I hate him so much seriously.

He seemed unsure at first when I suggested it, but maybe once I get this plan to work he'll want to. Since I just came up with the idea this_morning_, I can't really say I don't have my doubts too, but after thinking about it all day, I know it's something I want to do. It took me until last period to realize that_ is_ what I want specifically, and while I do realize how homo the whole idea is, it's not really that much gayer than what we've been doing. It's just more shit to get used to. Besides, it's what I want. And what I want, I get, no matter what the hell it is.

So, I have a plan.

Since we can't be seen anywhere in South Park, we're gonna have to go out of town instead. I was thinking North Park since it's not too far away and hardly anybody from our town ever goes there, except maybe for away football games or for some other lame high school sport.

And how we're gonna get there…well, I need to talk to my mom.

I saunter into the kitchen, where my mom is getting dinner ready. Looks like lasagna. I let out a deep breath and prepare the most convincing voice I can muster.

"Moooooooooom?"

"Yes, poopykins?" she answers, not looking back at me.

"I was wooooonderiiiiing…" I draw out slowly and sweetly, "if I could borrow your car this weeeeeekend for a very important reeeeeeasonnnn…"

That oughtta get her.

"And what reason is that, sweetie?"

Fuck! I wasn't expecting that one. You're a smart one, you filthy bitch. "Um, well, I can't tell you, but it's very impooooortaaaant…"

"I'm sorry, honey bear, but I can't lend you my car if I don't know why you need it so badly," she replies, adding a layer of pasta to the lasagna. "And besides, you're too young to drive."

God dammit, don't make me hit you, woman! "Well, no, not really. I have my learner's permit, and I already know how to drive reeeeeeeally well. I proooomise I won't get pulled over or wreck or anything! Pleeeeeeeeeease, moooooooooom…"

"I don't know…"

I was really hoping it wouldn't come to this. But I am _not_ walking out of here without getting my way. So, I let go of my inhibitions (not that I have that many to begin with) and proceed to throw a tantrum.

Like a fucking four-year-old. Or, in my case, like a nine-year-old. Whatever. I don't give a fuck.

I'm way too old for this, I know. I'm even starting to embarrass myself. But it seems to work out nicely. When I'm finished, I hear my mom's voice, agreeing to my wishes.

Sweet.

"But," she adds, ruining my moment of triumph, "before I let you do anything, you have to tell me why you're borrowing mommy's car, if it's so important."

My face falls. "I can't."

"Then I'm sorry, sweetie. If you can't tell me, I can't let you borrow my car." She pauses and frowns. I think it makes her sad when I don't tell her shit. "Why can't you tell mommy? You're not planning to transfer a dead body, are you?"

"No, nothing of that sort." Then I mutter under my breath, "Not anymore, anyway."

"Then why are you embarrassed to tell me? Does my baby have a date, or…?" she starts to suggest, and my face turns hot pink. For some reason I'm rendered speechless. At my moment of silence, she finally turns to look at me, and she realizes she's right.

Son of a fucking bitch.

"That's it, isn't it?" she adds pointlessly.

I try to hide my embarrassment, even though it's too late. She's already seen right through me. "No!" I attempt.

"Well, that's too bad…" she starts out, and I know where this is going. The bitch knows how to fight on my level. "…if it _was_ for a date, I might let you have my car for the night, but since it's not…"

I'm clearly stuck now. There's no other way out of this. I could try another tantrum, but I don't think it'll do much good.

"Dammit, mom, you win." I spit out venomously. I'm pissed it had to come to this. "I wanna go on a date."

"Oh!" she squeals, as if this is news to her. "My sweet little poopykins is going on a date! Who are you going with? Is it someone Mommy knows? Do I get to take pictures?"

"No!" I assert. I don't want to be too forceful, though. "Maybe some other time. And I don't want you to meet them now. Maybe later."

My mom looks hopeful. "All right, sweetie. I'll give you the keys on Saturday. How does that sound?"

"That sounds great, mom," I reply, beginning to head out the room. But I stop and turn back first. "Oh yeah, and mom?"

"Yes, sweetie?" I think she was expecting a thank you of some sort, but I don't give her one.

"Hurry up with the fucking dinner! I'm starving!"

I stomp out of the kitchen and into my room, looking like my usual pissed off self, but inside I was exploding with excitement. Though there were a few glitches, my plan was actually working.

Now to just tell Kyle about it and hope he agrees.

* * *

I'm sitting in my room later that night, doing some homework, when my phone starts to ring.

I quickly answer it, expecting it to be Stan, who usually calls me around this time at night, unless we're already hanging out together. "Hey, dude," I answer.

"This isn't Stan, butthole."

Well, obviously not.

"Cartman? What's going on? You _never_ call me."

This much was true. In the past, he would call every now and then just to harass me (he would call me from the "future", stupid shit like that), but he doesn't even do that anymore. Even with all the time we've been spending together lately. Neither of us deems it necessary.

"Yeah, well…I wanted to talk to you about something."

I think I know what he's going to say, but I don't know if I really want him to say it. "What is it?" I slowly ask, hoping to slightly push back the inevitable.

"I figured it out," he simply replies, knowing that he doesn't need to make himself clearer. I know exactly what he's talking about. He's probably grinning on the other side of the phone.

"How'd you figure it out?" I didn't know he was gonna come with this so quickly, or even at all.

"I'm borrowing my mom's car on Saturday. We can go out of town so no assholes here will see us."

I can only wonder what kind of shit Cartman pulled to get his mom to let him borrow her car. He doesn't even have his driver's license!

"Are you sure you know how to drive?"

He gives an annoyed sigh into the phone. "Dammit, Kyle, you sound like my mom. Of course I know how to drive!" He pauses, probably wondering if I'm convinced, which I'm not entirely. "Listen, Kyle, if something were to happen…if I got pulled over and had to talk to a cop, I'd make sure you didn't get in trouble for anything. And if anyone at school found out you were with me, you could just tell them I kidnapped you, or some other stupid shit."

I give a kind of half-chuckle, knowing that Cartman's lying out of his ass. If he got in trouble for driving without a license, I know for damn sure he'd find a way to get all the blame placed on me. Sure, Cartman's changed in the past month, but he hasn't changed_that_ much. And he never will.

"Come on, Kyle, don't be such a pussy. It's _okay_ to do something you're not supposed to be doing every once in a while…"

I stop and think about this, his words resonating in my mind. Maybe he's right. After all, our whole relationship right now is based on doing something we shouldn't really be doing, and it's been a lot of fun, I have to say.

But this is a lot different from what we've been doing. Going on a date would be kind of a big step…a _weird_ step into a direction I'm not entirely sure I want to go.

The idea doesn't exactly repulse me…but it doesn't thrill me either. To be honest, I just haven't thought about it much. I need more time.

…but I don't have any. Cartman's asking me now.

So I take a deep breath and give him my answer.


	6. Chapter Six

A/N: First of all, I'd like to wish this story a happy belated third birthday! Heh, isn't that terrible? I can't believe it's been that long since I've started this. But anyway, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed Chapter Five (Shaboba, Famous Living Dead, TheOriginalLuvsBitch, mad hatter 1712, JACinthebox, PersianLady, greenapplechild, bp, werewolf fan, and assassinatorgirl); you guys gave me the most reviews I've ever gotten for a single chapter of this story! And thanks to everyone else for reading and adding this story to your alerts!

Before you read, let me note that there is one POV change in this chapter. Most of the chapter is Kyle, but there is a break mid-chapter that's from Stan's POV.

All right, that's all.

* * *

It's Saturday afternoon, and I'm almost done getting ready to leave. I have plans for the rest of the day, pretty much. 

Oh yeah, I agreed to go out with Cartman.

To be honest, I'm really unsure of how this date's gonna go. I decided to go through with it pretty much on a whim. I guess I figured, why not? If it's bad, then I wasted a whole Saturday with the fat ass. If it's good, then…I don't know. Then I can say I had a good time hanging out with Cartman, which is something not a lot of other people can say.

Either way, at least I'm not left wondering. Sometimes it's exhilarating to go at something blindly.

Or excruciating, one of the two. I'm about to find out which is correct in this case.

I run my fingers through my hair one last time and start to head out my bedroom door. I pause for a moment, thinking about whether I should wear my ushanka or not. I know Cartman would like it better if I didn't wear it.

But_fuck_ him; it's January. And I have to walk outside a couple of blocks so I can meet with him. I wish he could just pick me up at my house, but I know my mom would have a fit if she knew I was going out somewhere with Eric Cartman, anti-Semitic son of a whore, town asshole…among other things. Besides, it wouldn't make sense with where I told her I was going today.

Grabbing my hat, I close my door and head down the stairs. I pass by my mom on my way to the front door.

"Are you all ready for your little field trip, bubby?" she asks me.

"Yeah, mom…" I trail off.

Naturally, I'm lying about my real plans for today. I told my mom I was going on some field trip, which is kinda funny since I haven't gone on a field trip in years. But she doesn't need to know that. As far as she knows, I'm going to this museum out of town for my history class, and I'll be gone all day. I even made up a fake permission slip so my mom wouldn't get suspicious or nervous or anything. She tends to do that.

I turn around, and my mom is standing right beside me. "Well, I guess I'm gonna go now, Mom."

Her eyes fill with worry. "You're going to walk all the way to the school? No, that won't do, Kyle. It's too far away. I'll take you."

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. I thought I went over this with her. "No, Mom, I told you. One of my classmates was gonna meet me at the bus stop and take us to the school."

"That doesn't seem necessary. I'll take you."

I sigh. "I already told him I'd meet him there, Mom."

She seemed completely unfazed by anything I have to say. "Just tell him your mother's taking you. He'll understand."

What the hell? That woman does not give up. I guess I'll just have to call Cartman at school and tell him to pick me up there.

When we arrive at the school, I'm relieved to see a group of buses sitting in the parking lot. I think the drama club is having some kind of competition today. That's great for me, seeing as how my mom probably wouldn't leave until she saw me get on a damn bus.

So that's what I do. After I get out of the car, I make my way over to a random open bus, waving goodbye to my mom for good measure. I take a few steps into the bus, and when I glance over, my mom is pulling out of the parking lot. Thank God. This whole plan isn't as easy as I thought, but it's turning out okay…so far.

"Hey kid, what are you doing?"

I turn around to see the apparent driver of the bus I'm on looking at me like I'm an idiot. I pretend to look lost as I step down from the bus. "Oh, sorry…" I say.

I think he thinks I'm either completely stupid or completely inebriated. Either way, I don't care. I pull out my cell phone as I walk away, hoping I have Cartman's number in my address book.

Luckily, I do, and when he picks up, he sounds like some kind of angry dog barking. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the school," I reply, shivering slightly from the cold breeze.

"Why the fuck are you at school?" He practically snarls over the phone.

"I told my mom I was going on a field trip, remember?" I begin to explain, and with his silence I can tell he doesn't understand. "I told my mom I was meeting someone at the bus stop to take us to the school, but she didn't give a fuck and insisted on taking me herself."

"Dumb bitch."

My grip on the phone tightens, and I almost want to break it. "She's not a bitch, Cartman. She's just…overprotective."

"Yeah, that's what I said, overprotective bitch." I want to punch him in the face. "So what do you want me to do?" he adds.

"Can you come pick me up at the school?"

"Screw that. Just walk over here. That'd be easier."

"No, it wouldn't! Walking would take forever! Just get your fat ass over here and pick me up before I give up on this stupid date."

For some reason, that seems to get to him. After muttering a "fine," he hangs up the phone and I wait for him to show up.

About twenty minutes later, he does. Finally. I hop in his mom's car; he mutters a few angry words at me, and we pull off.

In silence.

…Which continues until we get to North Park. I'm not entirely sure why we're not saying anything to each other. I don't think we're pissed off at each other anymore—I know I stopped being angry within five minutes of riding in the car.

I can't put my finger on it.

The first thing we do is get something to eat. We stop at some pizza place and order our food, and I notice that Cartman doesn't eat quite as much as he normally does. Is he sick or something? Usually he would eat everything in front of him, including what's mine, but not today.

And we still don't talk. Not that I really enjoy talking to Cartman all that much, but things are starting to feel…really awkward and weird.

Luckily, the next place we go is to the movies, where we don't have to talk anyway. Thank God. We end up seeing this completely shitty horror movie that I have trouble taking seriously, but at least I got to sit and chill out for an hour and a half. I swear I felt Cartman's hand brush by mine at some point, but maybe I'm mistaken.

* * *

It's about halfway through the afternoon, and I'm surprised I haven't been able to reach Kyle yet. Usually we'd be hanging out by now. There's no way he could still be asleep. He'd better not be doing homework or anything. Either way, I'm sure he won't mind if I stop by. 

I ring the bell to his house, and his mom answers the door.

"Oh, hello, Stanley. How are you doing today?"

"I'm good. Is Kyle here?"

Her answer surprises me. "Oh, no. He's on a field trip today."

What? I didn't think we had those anymore. I try not to look too surprised. "A field trip?"

"Yes. Didn't he tell you?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. I must've forgotten about it. I guess I'll just talk to him tomorrow, then."

"All right. Goodbye, Stanley."

"Bye, Mrs. Broflovski."

And with that, she shuts the door. I start walking back to my house, feeling confused. Kyle didn't tell me about any field trip. Something about this whole thing doesn't seem right.

But maybe I'm just imagining things. It's probably nothing. I'll ask him about it tomorrow.

* * *

Soon enough, we're back in Cartman's mom's car again, driving aimlessly. Finally, Cartman says something to me. 

"You ready to go home?"

I want to say yes, but for some reason I find myself shaking my head.

I see a slight hint of intrigue in his eyes as we both try to conjure up another activity. We pass by a pond similar to the one at home, and I suggest we stop there. We park, and I notice a sign—"Stork's Pond." I swear these two towns are so much alike it's scary.

The sun is starting to set, and I can notice the shimmer it casts on the icy pond in front of us. We sit down on a common log by the pond, and I stare at the orange sky as Cartman looks at his shoes.

"This was a shitty idea," I hear him say.

He doesn't sound angry or disappointed or anything. His tone is more emotionless, like he's stating the obvious. I don't know how to respond to him. I kind of agree with him. It's kind of funny, though—I thought it would be shitty for much different reasons. I thought we wouldn't be able to get through the day without fighting with each other constantly, but we haven't done that at all since we've been here. I guess we would have to be talking to be anywhere near fighting.

"It wasn't…_shitty_," I start out, trying to make things sound a little more positive. "It's just…we haven't said one word to each other this whole time, and I don't know why."

"I know why," he replies, and I turn to look at him, intrigued. "It's because this shit is too goddamn weird."

I chuckle a little. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I never thought we'd ever be doing this in a million years. I guess we just don't know how to act around each other on a date."

"Well, I think we're supposed to be nice to each other, but fuck if I know how to do that."

I pause and think. I can definitely agree with that. I don't know how to be nice to him either. I mean, we've had our cordial moments before, but how are we supposed to act nice and polite to each other constantly like most people do when they're on a date? That's just not the way we are. And even though Cartman can really piss me off sometimes, I don't know that I'd want any of that to change that much. Talking to him normally can be aggravating, but at least it's not boring. Being too nice would be unbearable.

"Why did you want to go on a date with me anyway?" I suddenly question.

I can tell he doesn't really want to answer me. "Why'd you agree to it?" he counteracts.

"I don't know," I honestly answer. "I guess curiosity got the best of me."

"Is that all?" he asks, and I notice his eyes have shifted from me to the pond.

"I guess." I pause. "You didn't answer my question. Why'd you want to go out with me?"

"I don't know."

"There must be a reason."

"Fine." I hear him scoff. "It's because you're a stupid Jew and I hate you…"

"Cartman!" This is getting ridiculous.

"Let me finish!" he says. "You're a stupid Jew and I hate you, _but_…" he emphasizes, "I don't really mind hanging around with you."

Is this his way of saying he likes hanging out with me? I smile and shake my head lightly. "Thanks, Cartman. I don't really mind hanging around with you, either."

I see him smile a little too, but it quickly goes away. "But I still can't be nice to you. After all, you're still a stupid Jew."

I roll my eyes. "And you're still a stupid fat ass."

We share some kind of a moment until Cartman starts to move from where he's sitting. "Fuck this shit," he announces. "Come on, Jew. It's getting dark. I need to get you back to your bitch mom."

"Shut the hell up, Cartman. She's not a bitch."

"Whatever. I'm sure she'll want to hear all about your 'field trip' today as soon as you get back. You'd better be thinking of some shit to tell her."

"Yeah, I guess…" I mutter. He's probably right.

"Why the fuck did you tell her you were going on a field trip, anyway?" he continues. "There's got to be a million better things you could've told her you were doing today. You're pretty shitty at lying."

"I'm sorry I'm not a manipulative asshole like you, Cartman," I reply as we find our way back to the car. Soon enough, we pull out of the entranceway to Stork's Pond and are on our way to South Park, bickering the entire ride back.

I don't think either of us would have it any other way.

Finally, we get about a block away from my house, and Cartman pulls over to let me off. "Get the fuck out, Jew," he announces as soon as he stops the car. Annoyed, I start to open the door, but Cartman stops me. "Wait," he says. "I just wanted to say…aside from us not talking to each other most of the time, I don't think today completely sucked balls." He pauses, looking at me intently. "Did you?"

I stop a moment to think. "No, I guess not," I answer. As an afterthought I add, "Maybe next time'll be better."

I see his face perk up. "Next time?"

Huh, why'd I say that? Hell if I know if there'll be a next time. But who can really say? I'll need to think more on that later. Eluding him further, I simply shrug. His face registers that of uncertainty, and I decide to keep him looking that way. "Good night, Cartman. See you later," I say as I get out of the car, shutting the door behind me. I start to walk away, and I see him glance at me through the window for a moment as he drives past me.

I don't know what to think of this day. It wasn't the best time I've ever had…but it wasn't the worst. I'm not sure if I liked it at all, but I know I didn't hate it. I'm left with too much intrigue to have hated it. Even with all the years I've known Cartman, I feel like it's only now that I'm starting to get to know him. There are a lot of different sides to him that I really haven't seen and some that I didn't even know existed, and seeing him in different situations such as this one sure helps bring some of those sides to light. And I'm starting to realize that maybe I can stand him a little better than I previously thought.

Maybe there will be a next time.


	7. Chapter Seven

A/N: So...it's been almost five years since I last updated this story. My bad. I never thought I'd finish it, but hey, who says you can't dust off an eight-year-old story and finally give it an ending? Expect more updates soon!

* * *

It takes me a few minutes after waking up to realize everything that happened yesterday. I can't help but shake my head. I actually went out with Cartman!

I haven't had time to think about whether I'd want to do it again or not. I mean, it could be interesting. Yesterday sure was. And now we both know to just act normal around each other. But then again, how normal can we be if we're on a fucking date?

Furthermore, when was our relationship _ever_ normal?

The sound of the doorbell ringing downstairs interrupts my thoughts. After a minute, I hear footsteps approaching my room, and eventually someone knocks on my door.

"Come in," I say, and the door opens.

It's Stan. Oh shit, I was sorta supposed to hang out with him yesterday. It's kind of an unspoken agreement we have to hang out on Saturdays. I don't think I told him I was going to be busy all day. Shit.

He eyes me curiously as he steps into the room. He doesn't look angry exactly…I can't really place his expression. I try to act nonchalant in the unrealistic hope that he won't want to know where the hell I was yesterday.

"Hey dude."

"Hey dude," he replies, his expression unwavering, but he sounds casual. "I tried to stop by yesterday to hang out. Your mom said you were on a field trip."

He doesn't sound accusatory, but immediately my heart rate starts to quicken. My eyes go wide for a split second before I realize I can't give myself away by acting surprised. "Oh, yeah. We went to some museum for history class. It was kinda lame."

He nods his head as if he believes me, but his eyes say otherwise, narrowing a bit. "Oh, okay," is all he says.

I feel like he can see right through me; nonetheless I continue with my story. _If I'm going down, I'm taking it to the bitter end._ "Yeah, sorry I forgot to tell you about it. I know we were supposed to hang out yesterday. I guess I didn't realize it was happening until the last minute."

That last sentence had some truth to it, at the very least. I had no idea I would ever go on a date with Cartman, and even while it was occurring, and even right now, it still doesn't feel like it actually happened. Does what happened yesterday even count as a date? I'm not sure it does.

Stan's eyes narrow a bit further, but he doesn't say anything. There's an awkward pause between us until I hear his voice pick up again. "It's just…" he starts.

I stare at him blankly, trying desperately (but hopefully somewhat suavely) to hide the fact that inwardly I'm a fucking nervous wreck. I merely raise my eyebrows, signifying for him to go on, even though I'd really prefer he didn't.

"…I haven't been on a field trip since middle school. I didn't realize they still had them in our grade. It just seemed weird to me, I guess."

Shit.

"Yeah, I thought that was kinda weird too," I pause momentarily, gathering my thoughts, "but then again, that's definitely not the weirdest thing I've experienced in this town."

I can see a flood of memories involving some of the most fucked up misadventures we've gone through over the years run through his head. He smiles a bit at the nostalgia, then quickly rolls his eyes at how retarded it all was. The questioning glance in his eyes washes away in an instant, forgotten.

"You got that right."

For the first time since Stan walked into my room, I can relax. I'm happy to have placated him for now (I really don't know how many more questions my nerves could've handled at the moment, and he didn't even ask me about Cartman at all), but I have a feeling that this isn't over. Stan knows something's up, but thankfully he doesn't seem to know what it is.

I can handle that for now. I intend to keep it that way, or better yet, convince him that there's really nothing going on so he'll stop getting suspicious. I just need some time to get better at this lying-to-your-super-best-friend thing. I know I'm probably going to have to start doing it more often the longer Cartman and I are still…well, whatever you would call what we're doing. I have no idea.

It's not going to be easy lying to Stan on a regular basis, but like I said before, if I'm going down, I'm taking it to the bitter fucking end.

Stan can't know about this.

* * *

It's been a few weeks since Cartman and I first went out together. I wasn't sure about giving it a second try, but somehow Cartman convinced me, and we went out again the other week…and again today. Once we stopped worrying about how we're _supposed_ to act and just acted like ourselves (fights and all; we've been kicked out of a couple of places), it wasn't so bad. We've mostly been doing the same type of shit we would if we were hanging with Stan and Kenny (today, for example, we spent most of our time at the arcade)—but somehow it just feels different when it's the two of us. Not quite like a _date_, per se, but I don't know….

It's Sunday evening (I suggested we change the day to keep Stan off our trail), and I'm riding in the car with Cartman on our way back from North Park. The sun's already set. We're approaching my house. Cartman stops the car a few houses down and slowly turns his head toward me.

"So, uh…I guess I'll see you later." He looks nervous for some reason. "…Jew," he tacks on for good measure.

I glance at him with half-lidded eyes. I have to admit, seeing him like this is pretty amusing, though I'm not entirely sure what's going on with him right now. He wasn't acting like this earlier. "Later, fatass."

I see him smile a bit. He quickly hides it under a scowl, but his eyes betray him. Normally it would have set him off when I call him that, but not this time. He's probably realized, just like I have, that our insults just don't have the same bite anymore. If anything, they're the closest things we have to…terms of endearment, I guess?

I scoff inwardly at the ridiculous thought and get ready to open the car door. I turn to look at Cartman one more time, and he looks like he's contemplating something. He's also _really_ fidgety. I notice him playing with some of the knobs on the car's stereo, which isn't even on.

"What the fuck's up with you, Cartman?"

He stops. "What do you mean, Jew?" He then crosses his arms, his tone feigning mild disinterest.

"Well, you were normal the whole day, but in the last ten minutes it seems like you've come down with a case of Parkinson's or something. You all right?"

I lean closer to him, and that seems to get to him. He looks nervous again, though this time he's frozen in place.

"Uh…it's nothing. I was just thinking about…uh, since it's the end of the night and all…if we should…"

"What? Do you want a goodnight kiss?" I ask half-jokingly. I chuckle and see that he looks pretty serious, which makes me laugh even harder.

"Fuck you, asswipe!"

I wipe away a tear that comes from my laughing fit. "Heh, sorry. It's just…why are you so goddamn nervous? It's not like we haven't kissed before."

Something about saying it out loud like that makes my face instantly heat up, but I keep looking at him, waiting for an answer.

"I know that, dumbass. But it's never been at the end of a…you know."

He doesn't finish his sentence, but I get what he means. Even after all the time we've been spending together lately, this whole situation is still strange for both of us. Even though we've been out a few times now, we've never kissed or anything like that at all—doing it outside our 'tutoring' sessions would add a whole new level of weird to everything. It would make our "dates" actual…_dates_.

There's no way I'm used to any of this, but either way, it's going to take a while to get used to. This whole situation is so fucking bizarre. I feel like I'm never _really_ ready for anything we end up doing, but I don't think I ever would be anyway. I'm still so surprised this is happening.

But that's part of what makes it so exciting.

"Maybe we should try it," I find myself blurting out.

"You sure?" he questions slowly, making damn sure I'm serious before he does anything.

Well, no going back now. Also, getting to see a bashful Cartman is endlessly entertaining. I never thought I'd see the day when the thought of kissing _me_ made his _this _nervous. He's totally at my mercy, and I can't get enough of it. I nod, and we lean into each other.

The kiss was short and surprisingly soft, something I didn't really expect from Cartman. Usually there's a lot more passion and intensity involved (mainly stemming from the fights we inevitably have beforehand). But this…was different.

It felt like the type of kiss you'd get at the end of a date. A _real_ date.

The implications of all this are too much for me right now. I clumsily jerk the door handle and nearly stumble out of the car. I pick myself up and stand beside the car. Now I'm the nervous one.

I glance at Cartman, and he looks just as freaked out as I am. Our eyes meet for a final awkward moment before we both look away sheepishly.

We both mumble a quick "bye" to each other before I slam the car door shut and practically sprint back to my house.

What the fuck was that?

* * *

Cartman and I avoid each other for the entire school day the next day. Stan asks me what's going on about halfway through the day, but I chalk it up to Cartman to being his usual asshole self and me not wanting to have to fucking deal with it today.

But for the first time ever, that isn't true at all. In fact, the opposite's going on—I'm avoiding Cartman because I don't want to deal with him _not_ being his usual asshole self. Things are getting weird between us. I've been seeing sides of him I never knew existed. The more I see, the more I'm fascinated—and freaked the fuck out.

…Because I think a part of me might actually like it. More than I'd like to admit.

I don't want to talk about it right now, though.

Still, somehow I find myself at Cartman's doorstep after school. It is one of our tutoring days—I guess I came here out of habit. I consider getting out while I still can, but just as I take my first step away from the door, it opens.

"You ever thought of knocking, Jew?"

I feel myself tense up as I see Cartman standing casually at the door, doing a better job of composing himself than I am right now. "Oh hey…I just came for, uh…tutoring." For fuck's sake, what the hell is wrong with me? I see him start to smirk at his apparent power over me. Dick hole. I'm not about to let _that_ continue.

I pause briefly and get myself together. "Well, aren't you gonna let me in, fatass?" I finish, the usual gleam-resembling something similar to hatred, but not quite that-returning to my eyes. With a smirk, I place my hand on his chest, running it across to rest on his shoulder as I push him aside to enter the house, and he yelps.

I win, motherfucker.

All that seems to set him off, because he storms past me and flops down on the couch angrily, crossing his arms. "What do you want, Jew? You've been ignoring me all day."

I sit down beside him. "You've been ignoring me too, dumbass. We were ignoring each other-that's kinda how that works."

"Yeah, whatever."

An awkward silence fills the air. I don't know what to talk about, so I might as well get to the point.

"Should we…talk about last night?"

He sighs angrily. "Dammit Kahl, you're such a fucking vagina sometimes. We don't need to talk about shit."

My eyes squint in annoyance. Apparently this is a waste of my time. Cartman seems pretty bent on keeping any sides of him away that don't make him look like the world's biggest asshole. Admittedly, I'm a little disappointed that he'd rather go back to acting like a dick to me than face the one weird moment we had last night, but whatever. "Fuck off, Cartman. I'm leaving."

I start to stand up, but Cartman stops me, his tone changing completely to one resembling concern. "Wait, Kahl, don't go."

"Why shouldn't I if you're just gonna be an asshole the whole time?"

"Fine, I won't be an asshole. I just don't want to talk about…you know."

"I don't really either," I admit, "but we probably should at some point. We might as well do it now."

"What if I can't?"

"Why can't you?" I ask, curious. He turns and stares at me with an almost pleading look.

"I just can't."

I can tell by that look that he's just as confused by all this as I am. How the hell did our relationship change from quasi-friends/worst enemies who were constantly trying to kill each other; to enemies who fought sometimes but also made out with each other three days a week after school; to pseudo-enemies only fighting for fun and to keep up appearances, who secretly enjoy each other's company, sometimes even in public on what ever you want to call those outings we have together are? And what happens next?

Fuck, I'm not sure I can think about that. I suddenly feel queasy.

"Maybe you're right, Cartman. We don't have to talk about this now if you don't want to." I finally say, my nerves intensifying. How the hell did I think I was ready to tackle all this head on? My brain can't process all of this.

I think Cartman notices my anxiety because his eyes start searching frantically around the room as if either to avoid looking at me or to find some sort of solution. Finally he stops, still avoiding eye contact before he crashes his lips to mine.

A warm sensation fills my chest, and I kinda get lost in the moment and give up on worrying about everything for the time being. I'll get to figuring this whole this out eventually, but nobody said it has to be right now, so why put pressure on us?

Time flies and the next thing I notice is the sound of Cartman's mom's car pulling into the driveway. Hopefully my mom won't be mad that I'm late for dinner.

I'm slowly realizing that what we're doing has some serious connotations. I didn't want to admit it, but I know it's true, and at some point, we're going to have to deal with that fact—and whatever repercussions come from it. I can feel it more and more each day. My plan now is to ignore it as long as I can until I know how to deal with it, but I'm not sure when that'll be.

I like this thing I have with Cartman. But do I have to know _why_ I do? It's just too confusing.


	8. Chapter Eight

A/N: So I joined this site and posted my first story nine years ago today! Can't believe it's been that long! But anyway, figured it was a good day to post this next chapter. Enjoy!

And of course, reviews are appreciated. :)

* * *

I spot the Jew standing at the bus stop in the morning. None of the other guys are here yet.

Sweet.

"Hey fatass," Kyle greets me as he always does, even now when things are…different. I shrug off the thought and the feeling it brings out in the pit of my stomach, and I catch him smirking at me. My eyes are instantly directed toward his hat, and a wave of mischief that I can't explain—I'm seriously—suddenly goes through me. We're alone for the moment, and I have this strong urge to fuck with him. So I do. I snatch his hat off his head.

I grin evilly at him, and he does not look fucking pleased about it. "God dammit, Cartman!"

I, meanwhile, am having a goddamn ball and start running around in circles, keeping the hat away from him as he chases me. Finally I feel the weight of him against my back as he tackles me, trying to grab his hat from behind me.

"Just give it back, asshole!"

"No way, Kahl! I'm just doing you a favor! I keep telling you-you should be proud of that Jew fro of yours!" This is too much goddamn fun. I laugh, and I hear him start laughing too. I can't help but feel a little relieved that I'm not actually pissing him off. Don't get me wrong—I still love doing it, but not as much as I used to, I guess. Sometimes I like it better when he's not pissed off at me.

We're still both laughing as he tries to get his hands on the hat, but I swat them away, elbowing him off me so I can move in a new direction. But the Jew rat just switches tactics, moving his arms to reach from above rather than below. The added height from raising his arms up brings his head slightly closer to mine.

Fuck, I can feel his breath on the back of my neck.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" I feel a sudden and unpleasant rush of cold as Kyle quickly jumps as far away from me as he can get.

God fucking dammit. Of course that asshole Stan just had to show up right at this fucking moment. I look to the other side of me and see that other asshole, Kenny, approaching too.

I glance at Kyle and see him squirming like a nervous pansy. God dammit, Jews are supposed to be sneaky—why is this one so shitty at hiding this one simple thing?

Well, I guess it's not exactly simple. But whatever, fuck it. I glare at him to suck it up.

"What's going on, dudes?"

Kenny stands to the other side of me. He eyes the situation and looks over to that butthole Stan, who keeps glancing back and forth between Kyle and me. "That's what I was just asking," he says.

"Nothing's going on," Kyle replies, looking noticeably more pissed off now. "Cartman's just being a douche like always." He scowls at me, and I can't tell if this is for show or if he's really mad at me for starting all this. Realizing he's still without his hat, he grabs it away from my hands, shoving it quickly back on his head.

So much for that.

I scoff and pretend I'm not disappointed things had to end so abruptly.

The bus arrives before the lame-ass conversation Stan started can go any further. Kyle casts me one more nervous glance before going to sit beside Stan on the bus.

I sit with Kenny. We sit in silence for a minute as the bus starts moving, then out of nowhere he asks, "So…what just happened back there at the bus stop? I feel like I missed something."

I sigh in exasperation. Why do these guys have to ask so many questions?

"Nothing, Kenny. Kahl and I were just messing around, and Stan came up and started acting like a dildo for no reason."

"Oh." Kenny's eyes narrow a bit as if he's examining me. "You and Kyle were…messing around?"

"Yes, Kenny! It's not that big of a goddamn deal! Now just shut the fuck up and let me enjoy the rest of my bus ride in peace, you poor piece of crap!"

These guys are pissing me off so much today, I'm seriously. But Kenny looks away; I guess he doesn't care anymore.

Then I see who he's looking at.

That goddamn butthole.

* * *

Kenny gives me a look that says he's just as confused as I am. I give him a little nod, ignore an angry glare from Cartman, and turn back to Kyle, who's looking out the window, seething. I'm not sure why he's so mad. Did Cartman really piss him off that much before Kenny and I got there?

The weird thing is, it sure didn't _sound_ that way at first. I could hear them both laughing before they knew I was there. I could swear I heard Kyle having a good time…with Cartman of all people.

…Who took his hat. I remember the last time Cartman tried that...it was a while ago, sometime last year, I think. I'm trying to remember what Kyle's reaction was…oh right, I know. He kicked Cartman in the _balls_. And Cartman hasn't tried it again since.

So what made today so different? Kyle didn't even look angry until after Kenny and I showed up. What's he trying to hide?

I need to get to the bottom of this. I know there's something going on that Kyle's not telling me about. I consider asking him a couple more questions, but he doesn't exactly look in the mood for it right now, so I just leave him alone for the remainder of the bus ride. Once we're at school, I let him go off without me and instead wait behind for Kenny.

"Hey Kenny, you got a minute?"

"Sure, dude. What's up?"

Cartman passes by us, giving me another death glare as he does so. Jesus Christ, what the fuck is his problem this morning? I fight the urge to scowl at him right back. I have no time to deal with his shit right now. I turn to Kenny, and we start walking into the school together.

"So…is this about Cartman and Kyle?" he asks.

"Yeah, exactly! I know Kyle's hiding something, but I have no idea what it is."

"I know what you mean. I got that same feeling from Cartman. He acted really weird on the bus when I asked him what happened."

Once we're down the hallway, I pause to grab a book from my locker. Kenny stands beside me, and I step a bit closer to him to keep our conversation between us, shutting my locker before I do so. "Kyle acted all pissed off at Cartman," I continue, "but before you got there, it wasn't exactly like that."

Kenny squints his eyes a bit and cocks his head to the side. "What was it like?"

"Before they noticed I was there, I think they were, like, playing keepaway with Kyle's hat or wrestling or…something. I only saw it for a second, but it was weird. It looked like they were a step away from tickling each other, for fuck's sake."

Kenny stares at me blankly, as if processing what I just told him. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, dude!"

His serious face then vanishes, replaced by one trying desperately to hold back laughter. He finally lets out a few chuckles. Between them he clears his throat and responds, "And Kyle was cool with all this?" He's then unable to hold his laughter back anymore, but he tries to contain it as best as he can to avoid calling too much attention to us.

"It sounded like it! I could hear them laughing from down the street! I mean, I could swear…" I let myself trail off. Kenny looks at me, his laughter dying down.

"What?"

"I could be wrong," I gulped, "but I could almost swear I heard Kyle…giggling." Kenny's expression instantly morphed back into one of seriousness.

"The fuck?"

"I don't know, dude! All I know is that I've never heard either of them sound like that before, especially not together. Do you think it might have something to do with one of Cartman's evil schemes?"

Kenny looks at me cautiously. "If Cartman's involved…it could be anything."

My eyes widen as the possible severity of the situation hits me point blank.

"Shit, I've gotta talk to Kyle."

* * *

I'm still fuming as I throw some of my books into my locker, grabbing a few that I'll need for the first part of the day and shoving them into my backpack. Normally I wouldn't be so careless with my books, but right now I don't give a fuck. I'm still pissed off about everything that happened this morning. Admittedly, I'm not sure whom I'm pissed off at, exactly—I'm just pissed off.

Part of me wants to be mad at Cartman for being the one who started the damn thing, and another part of me wants to be mad at Stan for interrupting us and asking questions. But I know it's my fault—I could've stopped things sooner. I knew we were outside and the other guys were on their way. I guess I just got caught up in the moment and forgot that we were supposed to be pretending like we still hate each other all the time.

It's not as easy to do as it used to be.

That pisses me off too. Why can't I hate Cartman like I'm supposed to? I used to be so good at it!

I slam my locker shut and see one of the people I'd really like to avoid for the rest of the day coming up to me. God dammit. I pick up my backpack and hoist it over my shoulders, preparing to escape to my first class, but he doesn't give me the chance.

"Kahl, wait up!" Cartman quickens his pace, falling into step with me as I start walking to my homeroom. "Can I talk to you really quick?"

"No," I reply, my tone emotionless, my eyes not even focused at him as I try to get away. I'll deal with him later, not now. "I have to get to class."

He moves in front of me, blocking me from getting away. "Class doesn't start for another ten minutes," he says. "Now stop being such a Jew and talk to me for a goddamn second!"

I scoff. "Fine, but let's go somewhere private."

"Works for me, Jew."

Two minutes later, we're both standing in one of the unlocked janitor's closets. This might be the stupidest idea ever. What if someone saw us go in here together? What if Stan saw us?

"So what do you want, fatass?" I ask.

"Look, Kahl, obviously you have some sand in your vagina about earlier…" he starts. I must have a look that screams _I'm about to kill you over and over again_, because his eyes widen and he quickly continues, "but I just wanted to say, I'm uh…I'm sorry. About what happened."

"You're what?"

"God dammit, Jew! You fucking heard me the first time!"

I did, but it's a little hard to believe. It's not every day that Cartman comes up to apologize to me about something. I blink when I hear him continue.

"I just…don't want you to be pissed off at me, okay? I was just trying to have some fun with you before the gahs got there. That's all. I didn't mean for all that other shit to happen."

My expression immediately softens at his sincerity. Suddenly I feel like a total dick. He turns around, seemingly embarrassed at his own words, probably thinking I'm still mad at him, even though I really have no right to be. His back to me now, I take a few steps closer to him, placing my hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, don't be sorry. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I'm sorry I got so pissed off—I guess I'm just frustrated, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you. It's just…keeping this a secret is way harder than I thought it would be," I admit.

I hear Cartman sigh. "Yeah, I know what you mean." We stand there in silence for an awkward moment before I hear him continue. "…It's okay if you want to stop. You know…what we're doing."

I stare at Cartman's back for a few seconds. I wasn't expecting him to say that. Even with all the stress this situation has brought out lately, I hadn't considered opting out. I weigh my options. If we stopped what we're doing now, Stan and Kenny probably wouldn't ever find out anything. Even though Stan's obviously suspicious of me right now, I still don't think he has any concrete idea of what's really going on, and he won't ever if he has nothing new to go on. I could actually get out of this scot-free.

If I do that, it also means that Cartman and I will probably go back to the way things were before. Except it will be completely different—there's no fucking way it'll be anything like before. Even if I wanted to, there's no way I can forget this, and I know Cartman won't either. How are we supposed to just act like it never happened? Fuck, there really _is_ no going back, is there?

I just hope it's worth it.

Realizing I haven't said a word in an uncomfortably long amount of time, I finally give him my response. "No." I pause before I continue. "No…I don't want to do that. We'll just have to be more careful."

I give his shoulder a light squeeze, and am surprised at the sensation of his hand reaching up and laying on top of my own. I step a bit closer, my chest now pressed against his back in a position very similar to the one we were in earlier, and brush my lips against the back of his neck. I can't help but grin as I see goosebumps form at the spot where I just kissed him. Sliding away from him, I crack open the closet door and check to see if the coast is clear. I think the bell's about to ring, so I should get going.

Deciding it is indeed clear, I say nothing else to Cartman, who's still facing away from me, before I head out the door for my first class.

* * *

I know Stan's gonna want to talk to me the next time he sees me, so I spend the rest of the day keeping that next time from happening as long as I can. I even spend lunch in the library instead of the cafeteria. On the bright side, I'm mostly caught up on homework for the day.

I decide to go straight to Cartman's place after school. I want to talk to him more about this. Even if it makes us both uncomfortable talking about what's going on between us, our secret-keeping skills are slipping and we need to figure out how to fix it and keep everyone off our backs. Fucking immediately.

I hear footsteps approaching behind me. "Kyle, wait up."

God dammit, I really wasn't counting on this right now. I turn around to face my super best friend, who has now caught up with me. "Hey Stan…what's up? What are you doing here?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing."

He motions his eyes to his right, glancing at a point over my left shoulder. I swing my head around to see Cartman's place just ahead.

Shit.

I get defensive. "I was coming over to tutor Cartman again. What were you doing following me here?"

"Actually Kyle," he pauses. I know I've got him there. "…I didn't exactly follow you. I was trying to find you after the bell rang, but you'd already left. I didn't know where you went exactly, but I figured you'd come here. And hey, I was right."

My face falls.

"Look, dude, I'm not here to interrogate you or anything. I just want to make sure you're okay. You've been acting really weird lately, and I know Cartman has something to do with it. You guys have been spending a lot of time together lately. You don't even have tutoring today, so I know that's not the only reason you're here. What's he been doing to you?"

_So many things I can't explain._ "Nothing." I choke a bit on my own nervousness.

He steps a bit closer to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. "It's okay, Kyle. You can tell me the truth."

"There's nothing to tell, dude." I try stepping back from him, but he doesn't allow me to move.

"Then what the fuck was that earlier today?" he asks, the tone of his voice sounding angrier by the second. "Just what did Kenny and I interrupt, Kyle?"

This is exasperating. "God dammit, Stan, I already told you! Cartman was being a dick and took my hat. You saw him holding it!"

"Yeah, but that's not all I saw. And heard."

"What the fuck do you mean by that?"

"I mean, before you guys noticed I was there, it sounded like you guys were…I don't know…"

"What?"

"Having a good time, I guess. You were laughing."

"Okay, fine. Maybe I was. We were just goofing around."

"Since when do you and Cartman goof around like that?" He squints his eyes in disbelief, and my anger intensities. We seem to both be reaching our breaking points.

"Like what?"

"Like you don't hate each other's guts! Usually you fucking hate it when Cartman even comes near your hat, but today, you were giggling, dude!"

"What? Are you out of your mind? Why would I ever _giggle_ around Eric fucking Cartman?"

"That's what I want to know!" He's practically screaming at this point, and so am I. I don't know what else to do now. "What are you hiding, Kyle? Just tell me."

I sigh. I feel trapped. I'm starting to think there may not be a way out of this.

"Fine, Stan, I'll tell you what's going on. Cartman and I sort of…well…we're…"

I'm not sure I know the answer to my own sentence.

But Stan is waiting.


	9. Chapter Nine

"Ay! What are you fags doing out here?"

I'm interrupted before I can finish my sentence. To my relief, I see Cartman standing at his front door, a look of annoyance on his face, his arms folded together. I assume he heard Stan and me yelling a moment ago.

"Oh hey, Cartman," I respond dumbly. Stan just glares at Cartman.

Cartman glares right back. "I'll repeat the question. What are you fags doing out here?"

"Kyle came over here to hang out with you, I'm guessing," Stan replies icily, his eyes narrowing as he continues to stare down Cartman, "but I needed to talk to him first. And we're not done. So give us a minute."

At this, Cartman's eyes narrow in competition with Stan's. But then he glances at me, and the malice in his expression completely disappears for a split second, replaced by a look of worry. It's oddly comforting, but there's nothing he can do at the moment. He senses this and simply disappears back into his house, closing the door behind him.

"So what were you about to say before fatass interrupted us?" I turn back to Stan, who looks impatient.

I'm so glad Cartman interrupted when he did. Now that I've had time to stall, I'm feeling a little more confident.

"I was going to say," I start, "Cartman and I are…friends, dude."

Technically, this _is_ what we are, so I'm not exactly lying. We like hanging out together. We do things friends would do. We do other stuff too, but I don't know what label that would bring, so it doesn't matter.

"What? You guys are already friends. You have been since preschool."

I scoff. "Well, yeah, but…now we're, like, actual friends. You know what I mean?"

Stan's face contorts in confusion. "So all this time you've been spending time with Cartman because you wanted to?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Why?"

That simple question stops me in my tracks. Why was I doing all of this in the first place? "I don't know," I answer honestly.

Stan furrows his brow at me. "How can you not know?"

"I just don't!" I gather my thoughts and try to explain things the best I can. "What I mean is…is that I've been getting to know Cartman a little better lately, and…he's not so bad sometimes."

Stan stares at me and draws out a sigh, his expression giving way to concern. "Okay," he replied, his tone sounding almost defeated, "Just do me a favor, will you, dude? Be careful around him."

I resist the urge to flip him off. I know what I'm doing, God dammit. "Got it."

With that, I turn around to start walking toward Cartman's house. I'm relieved when I hear Stan's footsteps moving in the other direction.

The door opens before I can knock. Cartman must've been standing there the whole time, trying to eavesdrop on our conversation. "What did you tell him, Jew?" he questions, obviously on edge.

I guess he didn't actually hear anything. "I told him we're friends. That I'd been getting to know you better lately and you're not so bad."

Cartman looks panicked. "You told him THAT?"

"What? It's sort of the truth."

"No, it's not! Dammit, that asshole probably has everything figured out by now!" Cartman slumps down to the couch beside him, burying his face in his hands. I say nothing and sit next to him.

After a long silence, Cartman speaks up again. "I appreciate what you said at school earlier," he draws out slowly, "but it's fucking obvious. We can't do this anymore. Really. I'm seriously."

I frown at him, not liking where this is heading. "Look, Cartman," I try, "we can do this, I know it. We just have to figure out a way to convince—"

"No!" he practically barks at me. "It's not gonna work! Besides…I promised you no one would ever find out, didn't I? This is the only way I can keep that promise."

My stomach drops. He's right. There's no way we can keep doing this without getting caught at some point. I simply nod, not wanting to say anything. His eyes acknowledge my nod before dropping to the floor, defeated.

"I guess you'll want to get going, then," he mumbles, still not wanting to look at me.

"I guess so…" I mumble back. I think about standing up to leave, but I can't bring myself to do it. To be honest, I don't feel good about this at all. I wasn't prepared to end things this soon. Suddenly, I get an idea. "Do you think maybe…that you might want to go on one more of our…" I pause briefly, trying to find a suitable word, "_hangouts_ before we call it quits? That way we can at least have some kind of, you know, closure on the whole thing."

He twitches a bit at my last sentence. I scoot closer to him and crane my neck so that our eyes are forced to meet again, but his stay unfocused, not wanting to address me. He doesn't look happy.

"Please?" I try.

He blinks, finally looking at me directly. "Okay, fine. Sunday."

"Sunday," I repeat, taken aback at the intensity present in Cartman's eyes. He must feel as shitty about this as I do. I wish it didn't have to be like this, but really, it's our only option at this point. It sucks, but being found out would be worse.

Way, way worse.

* * *

I wasn't planning on spying on Kyle after we finished talking, but that's what ended up happening. I have to find out more about what's going on. I want to trust Kyle, but his story doesn't make sense to me. Cartman's not so bad? Kyle would never say something like that under normal circumstances. Sure, he and Cartman have had periods where they got along before, but those times never lasted very long, maybe a week or so at most—usually Cartman would have some sort of ulterior motive for being nice to Kyle, Kyle would find out, and there'd be a big shouting match between them, most often in the cafeteria at school. And then things would go back to normal.

But that's not the case now. I'm not sure exactly how long this has been going on, but it seems like Cartman and Kyle have been getting along for a while. I have no idea what started it—Kyle won't give me a straight answer. I don't know why—it's a simple question. And if it weren't a big deal, he wouldn't be trying so hard to hide it.

That's how I _know_ something more is going on. I wish I could figure out what it is. Is Cartman blackmailing Kyle? That would explain why Kyle's intent on spending so much time with him. But what would he be blackmailing Kyle about?

I don't fucking know. I'm just here to help.

A few seconds later, I hear Cartman's front door open. I duck behind some nearby trashcans and see Kyle walking out. He was in there less time than I was expecting. His head and shoulders hang low, his posture slack; he looks dejected.

I can't let that asshole keep doing this to him. Kyle looks fucking miserable right now.

I sneak away before he notices me and pull out my cell phone. I dial a number on my speed dial and wait for the recipient to pick up. Finally he does.

"Dude, Kenny! Can I come over and talk to you, like, right now?"

"Sure, everything all right?"

"I don't know."

Soon I find myself at Kenny's house. I knock on the front door and hear footsteps approaching a few seconds later. He takes a look at me, worried. "Hey, dude."

"Hey," I reply simply.

He moves to the side so I can enter the house as well. His dad's in the living room drinking a beer on the couch, so we go to Kenny's room instead. He shuts the door behind him.

I pace around the room. Kenny sits on his bed, eyeing me curiously.

"So what's going on?" he asks.

"Something's wrong with Kyle, I just know it," I start, still pacing. "I tried talking to him today about it, but he wouldn't tell me anything."

"Well, what did he say?"

"He just said…that he and Cartman were 'friends' now," I put my fingers in air quotes to emphasize my point, "that he's been 'getting to know him better lately' and that he's 'not so bad'."

"As in, Cartman's not so bad?"

"Yeah. That's what Kyle said."

I turn to Kenny to get a look at his reaction to all this. I thought he'd be just as worried as I am, but that fucker is grinning. How can he possibly be so calm about all this?

He lets his smile fall a bit-he must've noticed the incredulous expression I'm giving him. "Sorry, dude, but did you ever consider…that maybe Kyle's telling the truth? Maybe they really are getting along now. It could happen."

I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration, finally sitting down on the bed with Kenny. "I know it's possible. And I want to trust Kyle. I just…have a bad feeling about this. Like there's a _huge_ part of this we're missing. I mean, since when is Cartman 'not so bad' of a person?"

Kenny looks away, mulling this over a bit. Maybe he has a bad feeling too, but he doesn't want to admit it. "Well, Jesus, Stan, what do you want to do, follow them around and spy on them?" he asks, scoffing.

I think Kenny was half-joking, but I don't care. "If that's what we have to do."

"Dammit…okay."

* * *

Kenny and I have been spying on Cartman and Kyle for a few days now, and unfortunately, we haven't really gotten anywhere with it. Kyle hasn't gone over to Cartman's house after school again since the day I caught up with him. And even at school, the two haven't really talked to each other much.

Cartman must know I'm on to his game, and he's keeping quiet and forcing Kyle to do so too. But I'm not giving up that easily.

I thought I had Kyle in a trap yesterday. We were gonna hang out like we always do on the weekend, but he blew off our plans because he had 'homework' to do. I went to his house to see what he was really doing—but he was actually doing homework! What the fuck?

I decide to try again today, though. I'm having more luck—I saw Kyle leaving his house a few minutes ago. I know where he's headed, so I give Kenny a call to meet me at Cartman's house.

"Do you really think this is gonna work?" he whispers to me. We're both hiding behind Cartman's mom's huge station wagon that's sitting in the driveway.

"I have no idea," I admit. We sit in silence for a couple of minutes, trying as best as we can to listen to whatever conversation Kyle and Cartman are having inside the house, but it's difficult. If only the curtains weren't closed. Suddenly, a string of obscenities seasons the air. Kyle and Cartman are having an argument.

It's hard to make out what they're saying, but I do catch the words "Jewrat", "pigfucker", and "asshole". I sigh a bit in relief—at least one thing is still relatively normal. I hear a crash of some sort and a thump from what I assume is one or both of them landing on the floor. Then there's silence.

I turn to Kenny, concerned. He shrugs and we try to go back to listening in, but there's no use at this point. Unless they're yelling, we can't hear a goddamn thing.

Five minutes later, we finally hear the sound of the front door opening. Kyle appears from behind it, a grin on his face. Man, I've never seen him so chipper after an argument with Cartman. He's missing his hat again—what the fuck is up with that?

He's chuckling, assumably at whatever he and Cartman were talking about before he opened the door. "…whatever, Cartman. You know you like it," he finishes. I'm instantly curious about what he means by that. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah, whatever." I hear Cartman call out. "You forgot something, though!"

"Yeah, what?" Kyle asks, that grin still spread across his face as he turns back to Cartman.

"Your hat, Jew!"

Kyle touches the top of his head as if to confirm this. "Oh shit, you're right. Where is it?"

"Over here."

Kyle glances inside again before going back in the house. I take this as our cue to figure out what to do next.

"Shit, dude, it looks like they're about to go somewhere. Should we follow them?"

Kenny looks at me, intrigued by this as well. "I guess so. Where do you think they're going?"

"No fucking clue. But we should probably find another hiding spot!" I reply, my panic starting to rise at the thought of them coming out here and catching us, which is an extremely likely possibility at this point if we don't fucking move.

"It looks like the doors are unlocked in Cartman's mom's car. We can hide in the backseat until they leave, then we can get out and follow them."

"Good idea, Kenny."

We manage to make it into the backseat before we hear Cartman and Kyle step out of the house. I was expecting them to head out down the street, but instead they walk closer to the car.

"Shit! I think they're coming in here!" I whisper. Frantically, Kenny and I squeeze into the floor and I pull a blanket over us just as the driver and passenger doors open.

Under the blanket, it's hard to tell what's going on, but I do manage to hear the sound of the car starting. The radio starts blaring and now I can't make out anything Cartman and Kyle are saying to each other. God dammit.

Kenny and I sit crushed together like this for what seems like forever, trying unsuccessfully to listen in on our two friends sitting in front of us. Where are they going? And when the fuck did Cartman start driving? I know he's not old enough to have his license already. I can't imagine Kyle being okay with that.

Just before my right leg completely falls asleep, the car stops and turns off, and then I hear two doors open and close. Thank Christ—I don't know how much more of this I could take. It feels like we've been in here at least an hour, but that might just be my discomfort talking. I move my head up slowly, making damn sure they've left before Kenny and I get up. The front seat is empty, so we're in the clear.

Cautiously, we crawl out of the car and take a look at our surroundings. The words on a nearby building catch my attention. I look at Kenny, and he looks just as confused as me.

"North Park? Why the hell would they come here?"

"Yeah, that's…weird." Kenny replies, his face scrunched in confusion.

"You see where they went?"

"I think they went in there." He gestures to a building behind me, and I see that it's the North Park mall.

What? Now I'm really confused.

"Well, uh…let's go find them, I guess."


	10. Chapter Ten

A/N: First of all, thanks for all the lovely reviews for the last chapter. I'm excited to say that this is the penultimate chapter-I will bring you the final chapter later this week! Cheers!

* * *

"So…where the hell should we look first?" Kenny asks me as we enter the mall.

"Fuck if I know." I reply, looking around. Kenny gestures toward the directory so we can try to get a better sense of our surroundings. I wish it were more helpful, but without knowing why the fuck Kyle and Cartman are even here, it's hard to guess where they might be going. And this mall is pretty goddamn big, so that doesn't help either.

Finally, Kenny and I shrug at each other and head off in a random direction. I don't care how long it takes…we're gonna find them.

* * *

"How'd you two assholes get here?"

Suddenly, an ambush.

"Ay, those pigfuckers killed me! Give me some more quarters, Jew. I need to finish this game."

"Use your own quarters, fatass."

"Pssht. Figures a Jew would be stingy with his money. Way to reinforce stereotypes, Kahl."

I roll my eyes at Cartman and hand him three quarters. "Whatever, Cartman. But you're buying the next game."

* * *

I feel like we've circled the mall at least twice, and there's still no sign of Kyle and Cartman. Frustrated, Kenny and I sit on a nearby bench to gather our bearings.

I sigh loudly. "Where else could we possibly look?"

"I don't know, dude. Maybe we could head to the food court again. Fatass is probably gonna want to hit there at some point."

"Heh, yeah, okay." I smirk at the hint of an insult. Cartman's really getting on my last fucking nerve today with this bullshit.

Kenny and I start to stand up when something catches my eye from the opposite side near the arcade. Something green. Something like…Kyle's hat! Oh fuck, I think I found them!

"Oh shit, dude, there they are!" Kenny exclaims, jumping up and craning his neck to track where they're heading.

"Dude, quiet! They'll fucking hear us!" I scowl at him, pushing him back down on the bench where Kyle and Cartman won't notice us.

"Come on, Stan! What are you waiting for?" Kenny asks hurriedly, trying to peer up at them again.

"I don't want us to get caught, Kenny—why the fuck else?"

"We're gonna lose them if we keep stalling!"

A pause.

"Fuck, let's go." I reply.

We stand up and try to spot our friends again. I think I see a hint of Kyle's hat heading toward the movie theater, so we start that way. By the time we get there, though, I don't see a trace of either of them.

God dammit.

"This is why I thought we shouldn't wait," Kenny mumbles angrily.

Fuck, this is my fault. It took forever to find them, and once we finally did, I screwed it up. It was right there in front of me, and I waited too long to act on it. Why'd I have to puss out?

It's just that…right now, nothing seems to be adding up. I have _no_ clue what's going on, and it's unsettling to say the least. I really do want to get to the bottom of this, but now that I actually have a chance to be confronted with it…I guess maybe part of me's a little afraid of what I might find out.

After all, Cartman _is_ involved.

"You're right, dude. Sorry for fucking this up." I reply sheepishly. "What should we do now?"

At this point, both of us become aware of the lobby being significantly less crowded than it was a minute ago. And Kyle and Cartman are nowhere to be seen.

"Shit, which theater do you think they went into?"

"No clue, dude."

"Well, fuck."

"Yeah."

After a moment of silence, an idea pops into my head. "Hey, you know we could just wait here until the theaters start emptying out again. We're bound to catch them at some point."

"Ugh, that's gonna take forever."

"Only a couple of hours at the most—we can manage that."

* * *

About half an hour later, we're kicked out for loitering.

I stomp out into the parking lot with Kenny close behind. We're both furious. This is becoming harder than I thought it would be. Ugh, I hesitate for one moment and I'm paying for it all day. Kenny looks aggravated at me. Jesus, dickhole. I feel terrible and I already apologized—what more do you want?

We head to where Cartman had parked his mom's car earlier and start searching for it. At the very least we can hang out there until we spot them coming toward us later.

We walk around for a couple of minutes, trying to find the car. I thought I could remember where it was, but now I'm not so sure.

"Dude, you think…" Kenny starts slowly, still looking around for the station wagon.

"Yeah?" I answer. I'm pretty sure I know what he's about to ask, and I don't want to confront that possibility.

"…You think they left already?"

My stomach sinks at hearing it out loud like that. I know he's right—I have a feeling about it. They must've gone out the side door by the movie theater (the same one those movie theater dickheads just threw us out of) instead of actually going into the theater when we lost them earlier. I should've thought of that.

Son of a fucking bitch.

Suddenly, Kenny turns to me, his eyes narrowing. "So what do we do now, Stan? You're the one with the _plan_," he says, the bitterness clearly present in his voice.

Now I'm getting pissed off. "God dammit, Kenny," I reply, the volume of my voice rapidly rising with every syllable, "I said I was sorry! What the fuck else do you want from me?"

"I want you to stop wasting my fucking time with this bullshit!" he shouts.

"What the fuck? I thought you wanted to help!"

"Yeah, well, I changed my mind."

"Yeah, well…it's too late. We're already fucking here."

Kenny scoffs at me, folding his arms together and doing everything he can to avoid looking in my direction. There's an uncomfortable silence before I hear him speak up. "You know, maybe it's none of our business."

"What?" I ask incredulously. He finally turns to look at me.

"Whatever Kyle is doing with Cartman. Maybe it's none of our business…none of _your_ business."

My brow furrows in aggravation. "Why are you being such an asshole, dude? You know I'm just trying to help Kyle."

"Maybe he doesn't need your help!"

"Yes he does! Clearly Cartman is…" I trail off, still unsure of a proper way to end that sentence.

Kenny gives he a look signifying, _Yeah, that's what I thought. _"Maybe they really are just better friends now. Have you considered that at all yet?"

I pause, thinking it over. "…But it doesn't make sense, Kenny. They've never acted like this before," I answer honestly.

He stares back at me for a moment. "Well…I can't say you don't have a point there, but maybe it isn't up to us to question it. Obviously it hasn't been working out so well for us so far," Kenny says, gesturing with his eyes to the open parking lot and our current stranded state.

I hang my head and sigh, disappointed at how this day turned out. "Yeah, you're right."

Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder. "Hey look," I hear Kenny say before I lift my head up. "I'm sorry for being a dick to you. I just don't feel right spying on our friends like this. But if you want…I can keep my eyes open around them in the future in case anything else strange happens."

"Sounds good, dude."

Kenny's right. Part of me really wants to keep looking today, but I can't keep following them around like this, and I can't keep forcing Kenny to go along with me. It isn't right. I mean, for fuck's sake—we're stranded in North Park now because of it.

"So, uh…about getting home…?" Kenny asks.

"Uh, yeah…._that_."

* * *

"I can't believe this is the last time we'll be here," I say, giving Stork's Pond a once-over before sitting down beside Cartman.

All of this happened so fast, and it's about to be over just as quickly. After that it'll just be a memory…and a strange one at that. I'm not exactly sure how I feel about today. I mean, I'm relieved there's a way out of this that doesn't involve the guys finding out anything. I don't know what I'd do if they found out…especially after what happened the other day with Stan. I'd hate to have a repeat of that.

For some reason, though, I've had this weird nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach all day. I know it'll all be over in a couple of hours, but I guess I can't help still feeling guilty at having to hide this from my friends. Then again, maybe there's a part of me that's a little let down, too. There was something kind of exhilarating about sneaking around like we have been…it'll be weird getting used to it not happening anymore.

I look at Cartman, his eyes cast down toward the pond, his expression stoic. He's either disappointed the day's coming to an end or wishing it would fucking hurry up and be done already—I'm not quite sure which one is closer to the truth.

"So, uh…this has been—"

"Save it, Jew," he huffs at me, folding his arms together.

"Jeez, fatass, what's your problem?"

"Nothing, asswipe," he spits, rotating his body away from me.

My eyes narrow, and I grasp his shoulders, spinning him back around so he's forced to look at me. "Tell me what crawled up your ass right goddamn now.'"

"Fuck off, kike."

I harden my stare, shoving my face right in front of his. "Just tell me what's going on, Cartman."

"Make me."

"Stop being an asshole, Cartman," I growl at him. This is getting ridiculous.

"No fucking way," he growls right back. We're both getting angrier by the second.

"Seriously, stop! I've had enough!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"For fuck's sake, Cartman, just stop already!"

"And what if I don't want to fucking stop? What if I changed my mind?" he fumes. There's an air of awkward tension before he starts to backtrack, "I mean…uh…fuck you, Kahl!"

"What? What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, fuck you with a thousand dildos, Kahl."

I scoff at him. "No, not that. The other thing. Are we still talking about you being an asshole here?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Seriously, Cartman! Answer the fucking question."

"What was the question?"

I fight the urge to smack him on the back of the head. "What did you mean by what you said?"

"I don't think that's any of your business, Jew," he cuts me off, poking his index finger at my chest.

"I think it is, fatass," I seethe, poking him back twice for good measure. "You'd better fucking tell me," I finish, grabbing his jacket collar and pulling him even closer to me. The tips of our noses are touching.

His eyes widen in response. "Uh, uh…" he stammers.

* * *

Somehow we managed to get a cab that'll take us to South Park. I'm afraid to think about how much the fare's going to end up being by the time we get back. I know I didn't bring enough money with me for the whole thing, so I'll have to run inside when I get home and hope there's enough stashed away in my room to pay for the rest. I was saving up that money in hopes of spending on something much less retarded, but I don't really have a choice at this point. I am the one who got myself into this mess, after all.

I sigh, sinking into my seat. This day totally sucked ass. I glance at Kenny, who's looking out the window. I shouldn't have gotten him mixed up in this. _I_ shouldn't have gotten mixed up in this. I don't even know why I let myself get so worked up. For fuck's sake, I've been spying on my best friend all week! What kind of person does that?

I'm not gonna lie—it still really bugs me that I don't know what's going on with Kyle. Why the hell would he let Cartman of all people drive without a license to hang out in fucking North Park? What's so important here? What's with all the secrecy?

I guess I'll just have to wait until Kyle decides to tell me. If he ever does.

"Holy fuck, is that what I think it is?" I hear Kenny exclaim. "Hey, could you pull over here?" Kenny asks the driver, who complies.

"What's going on, Kenny?" I ask.

"I figured this might be a good place to stop." He grins and hops out of the car.

I pay the fare and step out of the car too, eyeing it worriedly as it pulls away from us. "Now I'm confused," I say. "I thought you wanted to go back home. I don't know if you can tell, but we're still in North Park, dude. And that was our only way back."

"Yeah, well…" he starts. "I told you I'd keep my eyes open, didn't I?"

"Huh?"

He steps to the side, and behind him I can see it.

That fucking station wagon.

* * *

"Okay, fine. I wasn't exactly talking about being an asshole."

"Okay, then…what _were_ you talking about?"

"God dammit, Kahl! Isn't it obvious?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Either way, I want to hear him explain himself.

Cartman sighs loudly and finally answers. "I was talking about, you know…" he stalls, averting his eyes away from my stare, "…_this_," he finishes quietly, slowly refocusing his eyes toward mine. "This thing we're doing."

I gulp nervously, suddenly realizing how serious this conversation is getting. "So, y-you changed your mind?"

He gives a slight shrug.

"But we agreed to—"

"I know," he cuts me off.

I suddenly feel a pang of guilt in my stomach. I didn't realize this was affecting him this strongly. I mean, I'm disappointed too…

"…But we just can't risk it anymore," I finish my sentence out loud.

"I know," he mutters. "I just…"

"What?"

"I wish we could."

My heart thumps wildly at his sincerity. I suddenly realize how much I'm going to miss getting to see this side of him.

"Me too."

* * *

"You rock, dude!" I immediately pull Kenny into a tight hug.

"No problem, dude," he laughs, wriggling himself away from me, "but we should probably be quiet. Looks like they might be the only ones here." He points to a sign that says "Stork's Pond".

Stork's Pond? The fuck? This is even more confusing than the mall. But it'll be a great place to check in on them. I know, I know-I was supposed to stop doing this, but this is just too great an opportunity. We'll finally get a chance to see whatever Cartman and Kyle are doing alone together. We might get some pretty good clues if we're lucky.

Kenny and I share a look and quietly walk toward the entrance, trying to muffle our footsteps as much as we can. There's a lot of trees and shrubbery in the way before we reach the pond, so it might be hard to spot Cartman and Kyle as we get closer. We should be able to find a good hiding spot, though. We can stay for a few minutes, and if it doesn't seem like there's anything to go on, we'll go back to the car and hide until they come back out. They'll never even know we were here.

If there is something to go on…well, I guess we'll figure that out when we get there.

Kenny leads the way as we slowly head closer to the pond. I fight the urge to shout out when I see what looks like Kyle's hat on the ground several feet in front of Kenny.

_Really_? His hat's off _again_?

As quickly and as soundlessly as I can manage, I grab Kenny's arm and point to Kyle's hat.

"I'll go check it out," he whispers.

He walks over to where the hat's laying and takes a look at what's ahead of it. Suddenly his eyes bug out and he cranes his neck around a tree to get a better view of whatever he's seeing. He turns back to look at me and immediately drops eye contact. He stumbles backward nervously from his spot and I can see him mouthing what I think is _no fucking way_ on his way back over to me.

"Look, dude," he starts, still averting his eyes from me. "We should probably get going."

I don't believe him for a second. He looks like he's seen a fucking ghost or something. And I know he doesn't give a shit about ghosts, so what the hell is over there?

"What did you see, Kenny?" I ask.

"Nothing, dude. Let's go back to the car. I think Cartman and Kyle might be leaving soo—"

"Cut the shit, dude." I fume through clenched teeth, struggling to stay at a whisper. This is starting to get _really_ aggravating.

Kenny sighs. "You _really_ don't want to see what's going on over there. Trust me."

God dammit, I'm getting so fucking tired of everyone wanting to hide things from me! "Fuck that," I growl as I push Kenny away from me. He grabs my jacket to try to stop me one last time, but I'm sure he knows it's useless.

My heart races as I approach where Kenny was standing just a minute ago. I'm finally gonna have an answer! Fuck yeah!

The first thing I notice as I step into the spot is a sound. Sounds kind of like…I don't know. Breathing? I can't really tell.

Next I crane my neck just like I saw Kenny do. The first thing I see is Cartman. Cartman's back, specifically. He's on the ground, on top of someone I can't see from this angle. Kyle?

This is the quietest fight I've ever heard them have. Weird.

My eyes move up, and the next thing I see is Cartman's hand. In Kyle's hair.

My eyes shoot back to Kyle's hat, then back to Cartman's fingers entangled in Kyle's Jew fro. I continue to stare blankly until something hits me. Something big.

I'm not so sure they're fighting.

Holy shit. This is what Kenny was warning me about. Holy fucking Jesus, I should've trusted him.

Oh, fuck no.

I can't be seeing what I'm seeing. I stare at Kyle's hat lying on the ground once more, and bile starts to rise in my throat. I manage to spew out one sentence to express how I'm feeling before the contents of my stomach soon follow.

"Holy shit, dude!"


	11. Chapter Eleven

A/N: Well, folks, this is it. Exactly seven and a half years ago, I wrote my first slash story, a one-shot that turned into a two-shot that somehow became a multi-chapter story that I had no idea where it was going for the longest time. I just want to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and alerted this story along the way. I started this story as a teenager, and it only took me until my mid-twenties to finish it, but here it is!

Enough of my rambling. Enjoy the final chapter!

* * *

_If I'm going down, I'm taking it to the bitter fucking end._

* * *

"Holy shit, dude!"

Then puking. Lots of puking.

I can't be hearing what I'm hearing. Or more specifically, _whom_ I'm hearing.

I shove Cartman off me and stand up to face my worst fear manifesting right before my eyes. Stan's hunched over behind some trees, still throwing up. Kenny slowly approaches behind him, unable to look Cartman or me in the eye.

Fuck, they really found us. And we were just…fuck, they just saw us all over each other!

Things grow quieter as Stan begins to dry heave. He coughs…and starts puking again.

Something tells me this isn't going to go well.

Finally, there's silence. Stan slowly approaches us, clutching my hat in his hand (which thankfully he did not vomit on despite its close proximity), Kenny following close behind him. Stan stares at me bitterly before tossing my hat back to me. I put it on sheepishly, my eyes gravitating toward the ground. I can't bear to look at him right now.

I cringe when I hear him speak up. "So uh…you wanna tell me what the _fuck_ is going on here, Kyle?" he shouts.

"You see, Kahl and I—"

"No! I'm talking to Kyle right now, fatass. I'll deal with you in a minute," Stan seethes acidly. I'm somewhat surprised to see Cartman cower back and let Stan continue. He turns back and eyes me intently.

"Kyle, what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing. How'd you guys get here?"

"Don't try to change the subject."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry."

"So…?"

"So what?"

"The fuck do you think, Kyle? Why did Kenny and I just find you guys making out on the ground over there?"

My face grows hot. This is it—they saw everything. There's nowhere else to go from here. I can't lie anymore. Dammit, why'd this have to happen right at the end? We were about to get away with it!

"Uh…" I'm speechless. I was so afraid of being caught, but I didn't consider the reality of it actually happening. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say.

God dammit, Stan wasn't supposed to find out!

I continue to stammer. Stan's face eventually softens as he watches me struggle. "Look, dude. If he's been taking advantage of you…it's okay. You don't have to listen to him anymore."

Cartman glares at Stan and for a split second, I realize this is a way out—my last way out. I could put all the blame on Cartman and play the innocent victim. I wouldn't have to tell the truth.

But there's no way I could do that. Even with all the bullshit Cartman's put me through over the years, I don't want to do that to him. It'd be such a dick move.

I sigh. I've made my decision. It's too late to turn back now. "No, that's…that's not what was going on. I—I…wanted it to happen."

There's silence for a moment.

"WHAT?" Stan exclaims.

"Oh _shit_! I always had a feeling about you two, but…" Kenny explodes in laughter, barely able to form a coherent sentence, "…but you guys…actually…"

I roll my eyes as laughter overtakes him. I glance at Stan, who's fighting back the urge to dry heave again.

Maybe this was a mistake.

"Jesus, Kyle…how long has this been going on?" Stan asks between heaves.

"Uh…since I first started tutoring Cartman."

"Fuck, really? You guys have been at this for _months_?"

The way he words that makes me blush. "Uh, yeah."

"What started it?"

"I don't know. It just kinda…happened one day. And then it…you know…kept happening," I finish sheepishly.

Kenny shoots his eyes back and forth between Cartman and me, a mischievous grin on his face. "So…you guys fuckin'?"

"NO!" we shout in unison. Stan breathes a sigh of relief.

"What are you doing, then, exactly?" Kenny asks.

The bluntness of his question stops me in my tracks. I don't even know if I know the answer myself. What _are_ we doing, anyway? What does all this mean?

"Um…we just, you know…uh…I don't know."

"Well, I'll help you figure it out. You want to know what I think?"

"Okay."

"I think you guys are dating."

"What? Fuck that!" Cartman shouts. Stan's eyes bug out at Kenny's suggestion. My cheeks burn and I suddenly feel the urge to pass out…or at the very least crawl into a hole somewhere and die.

"We're not _dating_, Kenny. Don't be ridiculous."

_What the fuck? Why would he use _that_ word?_

"Come on now," Kenny continues. "You've been hanging out in secret for months, getting sweet hate action from each other. But for some reason, that wasn't enough, so you came to North Park for a…change of scenery."

"I guess you could say that."

"A place where you guys can spend time together away from the prying eyes of others."

"Uh…yeah."

"See each other in a different light."

"…Maybe."

"This isn't the first time you guys have done this."

"No, it's not."

"How many times?"

"I'm not sure."

"Because you've lost count!"

"Fuck off, Kenny!" Cartman shouts. Unfortunately that turns Kenny's attention to him.

"So, Cartman…" he starts with a grin, "which one of you initiated this?"

"Just now?"

"No, dumbass. The first time."

"Oh, uh…I did." At this, Cartman directs his eyes toward the ground, trying to avoid Stan's death glares.

"Interesting…" Kenny continues. "Why'd you do it?"

"I don't know…I just felt like it."

I glance at Stan, a scowl present on his face. I can tell he's getting angrier at every response Cartman gives.

_I hope this doesn't get out of control._

"Seriously, Cartman. What was going through your mind when it happened?"

"Uh…" I feel a pang of guilt for Cartman, who's clearly getting flustered at all these personal questions. He keeps his eyes focused on Kenny, refusing to acknowledge Stan…or me.

"I was bored, I guess."

"You were bored?"

"Well, yeah! I guess I just wanted something…different."

"You son of a bitch!" Stan suddenly shouts. "You decided to take advantage of Kyle because you were _bored_?"

"What? No!"

"Fucking liar!" Stan lurches forward toward Cartman, but Kenny quickly holds him back.

"Chill out, Stan."

"No! That asshole brainwashed my best friend into dating him!"

"We're not dating!" I try, but it goes unnoticed.

"I didn't brainwash him, hippie," Cartman huffs.

"I refuse to believe that," Stan seethes. "In fact, I refuse to believe you would do anything like this unless you had some ulterior motive. So what is it?"

"I don't have an ulterior motive. I'm seriously."

"God dammit, Cartman!" Stan tries to wrestle away from Kenny's grip in an attempt to beat the shit out of Cartman again, but Kenny keeps a tight hold on him. Kenny turns them both around so they're facing away from Cartman and me. I can see him whispering something in Stan's ear. Stan nods at whatever Kenny just said.

They turn around grinning and I suddenly feel queasy. Is this the beginning of an ambush? Fortunately (or maybe not so), they focus their attention back to Cartman.

* * *

I don't have time to react before Stan and Kenny jump on me, each grabbing an arm to keep me from getting away.

"AY! Get off me, assholes," I seethe, struggling to break free. But it's no use—they've got me from both sides.

I fucking hate these guys. Seriously.

"No, Cartman," Kenny says. "Look, I'm sorry we have to restrain you like this, but I figured it's the only way you'll answer our next question."

I huff. "And what's the next question?"

"How do you feel about Kyle?"

"What?"

"You heard me. You wouldn't be doing this if you didn't have a reason. Either you hate him or you feel something else for him…maybe love, maybe lust, or something in between—which is it?"

My eyes widen and I squirm, and immediately they both tighten their hold on me. What the fuck? I can't answer that. Wait, yes I can…

"I fucking hate that Jew!" I spit, casting my eyes venomously in Kyle's direction, who's eyeing me worriedly. He knows I'm lying.

Do they?

"So you are taking advantage of him?" Stan starts up again. "If you hate him, then clearly you're doing this to fuck with him."

"God dammit, I already told you that wasn't true!"

"Then what is the truth, Cartman?"

"Uh…the truth is…"

"Here, I'll make it easier for you," Kenny pipes up, his eyes turning to Kyle. "Kyle, step over here."

"Uh, okay," he replies, moving closer to the three of us. Kenny gestures for him to stand directly in front of me.

"So Cartman," Kenny says, "take a look at Kyle here and think about how he makes you feel…deep inside your black little heart, or whatever it is you have. Say whatever the first thing to come to mind is."

"That sounds pretty faggy to me."

"Just do it."

"Fine."

I take a deep breath, preparing myself for what I'm about to do. After several seconds, I move my eyes to stare an apprehensive Kyle in the face.

A few images flash through my mind at once, but the one that sticks out the most is the first time Kyle came over for tutoring, specifically those last few minutes before everything changed. I remember being so pissed off at him for trying to make me look like a dumbass and "teaching" me things I should already know. I didn't give a rat's ass about whatever he was trying to say. I just couldn't pay attention. I didn't want to pay attention…what was the point of paying attention to anything? It was always the same anyway.

Everything was so boring back then…but not anymore. Ever since that day, life's been a hell of a lot more interesting. Even going to school now isn't as shitty as it used to be. Even if it's a day where my only interaction with him is an argument about some retarded bullshit and he's pissed at me all day, I always look forward to it.

"He's the best part of my day," I blurt out.

Instantly, I feel my face growing hot, and Stan's looking at me like I crapped treasure again. Did I really just fucking say that?

"Really?" I hear Kyle say, but I ignore his response and immediately dart my eyes toward the ground, suddenly finding interest in a pebble lying on the ground in front of me.

"Yeah, really?" Stan says deadpan.

"So you like him?" Kenny asks with a hint of excitement in his voice. I bet that motherfucker's beaming, but I'm not gonna bother checking.

"I didn't say that."

"You might as well have. Come on, Cartman, just admit it. You like Kyle. He makes you all warm and fuzzy inside, if that's even possible with you. It's okay to prefer kosher-lots of people do."

I give an annoyed grunt in response, rolling my eyes. "This is stupid. Screw you guys, I'm going home."

I try jerking away from poor boy and the hippie again, but those assholes still have a tight grip on me. "Look Cartman, I didn't want to have to resort to this, but…" Kenny starts.

"But what? What're you guys about to do, Kenny?"

I notice Kenny give Stan a look, to which he nods. I swallow hard. I don't have a good feeling about this.

And that's when the fags started tickling me. I'm fucking serious. I feel their fingers grip my sides and I lose my shit. At first I think it's just incredibly lame, but then I realize they're not gonna stop and I'm starting to have trouble breathing. I don't like being tickled, God dammit!

"Fuck! Stop!" I manage to cough out between bouts of uncontrollable laughter.

"Not until you admit it, Cartman!"

"There's…nothing…to…admit!"

"Really? Even though Kyle's, and I quote, 'the best part of your day'?"

"Fuck…off…Kenny…" My patience is wearing thin, not that I had any to begin with. And my sides really fucking hurt now. I wish they'd cut this shit out. The second they're stupid enough to let go of me…they're fucking dead. I guarantee it.

"Cartman," Kenny looks me square in the eye. "Stop being a pussy and just tell the truth for goddamn once."

I can't take this anymore; I can't breathe…

"FINE, YOU'RE RIGHT! I like the fucking Jew, you happy?"

"How much would you say you like him? A little or a lot?"

"A lot!"

The tickling stops. Thank Christ. I don't bother to gauge anyone's reactions as I stumble backwards to sit on a log, catching my breath.

I can't believe I actually fucking said that.

* * *

I can't believe he actually fucking said that.

I never thought he'd admit to something like that. Especially to Stan and Kenny. I can't help but grin at this revelation as I make my way over to Cartman and sit next to him. He twitches as I start to speak, "You know, that took a lot of balls to admit."

"Yeah, well, it's not like I had any other choice," he grumbles, glaring angrily at Stan and Kenny.

"Well, I appreciate it all the same."

"Yeah, whatever. So are we done here?"

"Not yet. I kinda wanted to talk to you about something."

"What now? I've had enough goddamn talking."

"Then just listen."

He sighs. "Fine."

My stomach twists in knots. "Okay. Well, I…" I gulp. Wow, this is difficult. I glance at Stan and Kenny and that doesn't help anything.

"Spit it out, Jew!"

"Fuck you, fatass! Give me a second!"

I swear I notice Stan and Kenny rolling their eyes at us from the corner of my eye. Ignoring them, I scoot closer to Cartman and take a deep breath.

Here goes nothing.

"Cartman, you asshole…I like you too. A lot."

Cartman stares at me, not knowing what to say. I don't know what to say either. Where do we go from here?

"Took you guys long enough," Kenny says, shaking his head at us, breaking us out of the moment. At our lack of response, he continues. "Come on, it was so obvious. You guys have had crazy sexual tension for _years_ now."

"Don't be ridiculous, Kenny," I reply, but I know he's probably not _totally_ wrong.

Hesitantly, I look over to Stan, who's been pretty quiet for the past several minutes, his expression unreadable. How do I approach this with him?

I give him a small smile. He doesn't return it, but I wasn't really expecting him to. "Look, Stan," I start, "I'm really sorry about lying to you this whole time. I just…didn't know how to tell you."

After a minute, he sighs. "I'm not exactly thrilled about it…but I forgive you, dude. And I don't think I'll ever be able to fully get the concept of _this_," his eyes widen considerably as he gestures to Cartman and me, "but…Cartman does seem to actually care about you, so…whatever you do, I'll support you."

Immediately I propel up and crush my best friend in a bear hug. "Thanks, dude! That really means a lot."

"Don't mention it." Stepping back, he turns to Kenny. "Come on, dude. We'll give you guys a minute to, you know…talk and stuff," he finishes with a grimace.

Well, I guess it _does_ take a little getting used to.

Stan and Kenny walk back to the car, leaving Cartman and me alone. I sit back down next to him, my heart thumping loudly in my chest.

"Look Jew," Cartman starts. "Before we go…I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

I raise an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For breaking my promise. I don't know how those assholes found us, but…"

"It's okay," I interrupt him. "They'll get over it." The corner of his mouth briefly curves upward in a small smile before we share an awkward moment of silence.

"So…was Kenny right?" he asks.

"About what exactly?"

"You know, when he said we were dating. Is that really what we've been doing the whole time?"

"Yeah…I guess so. We were just too chicken shit to admit it."

"Well, since the guys know about it now, do you think we can…?"

"What?"

"Can we keep going?"

I pause to ponder this for a moment, but I know my mind's already set. I take his hand in mine, intertwining our fingers for the first time ever, and give him my answer.

"I don't see why not."

He grins and so do I.

"Sweet."


End file.
